


Simmer until tender

by connyhascontrol



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Katya is a chef, Lesbian AU, Trans Trixie Mattel, Trixie is a food critic, food as a metaphor for sex, middle-aged lesbians finding love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-11-24 11:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20907143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connyhascontrol/pseuds/connyhascontrol
Summary: In the following weeks Katya had scoured every issue of the New York Times for Mattel’s review. She had given up hope after several months with disappointment sitting heavily in her stomach. Mattel apparently had no thoughts on Katya’s food, not enough to even warrant writing anything. It’s worse than knowing Trixie hates her cooking. Then Katya could agree to disagree and get over her stupid schoolgirl crush. She’s no idiot, she knows that that’s what this is. The most persistent crush of her life. It doesn’t help that Trixie is an absolute doll with a figure to die for and a voice that Katya can feel directly between her legs.It’s fine. She is 48 years old, and she doesn’t need Trixie Mattel’s validation. It’s fine.Trixie Mattel is the most feared food critic in the country, and Katya will defend her from anybody implying she's a bitch. Except that Trixie actually is a bit of a bitch, and Katya loves it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is very different from anything I've ever written before, and it was partly born from [Shea's](https://hedonssippingseagrams.tumblr.com/) wish to see a hyper femme trans Trixie, so here she is. A big thank you also to [Sophie](https://mattepinkallshades.tumblr.com/) and [beanie](https://katiehoughton.tumblr.com/) (who proofread this), you three ladies have my whole entire heart, this story is as much yours as it's mine.
> 
> This fic is going to be five chapters in total, I'm already working on the last one, and I'll try to update every Saturday.
> 
> Warning: The beginning of this chapter includes some transphobic/transmisogynistic comments. Nothing really awful or violent, but if you'd rather skip that, you can search for "Katya slams the handle of her knife down" and start reading from there.

As if she got caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to, Katya quickly slides her phone into the pocket of her pants. She hasn’t finished her cigarette, but she still puts it out and discards the stub in the ashtray a little way away from the door. The two servers who have come outside for their own smoke break give her a friendly nod and she returns it, before pushing past them back into the restaurant. After she’s thoroughly cleaned her hands, she returns to her kitchen. 

Around her, people are busy prepping for the dinner service. As usual, Katya had shown up early and finished early, so she takes a look around to see which station could use some help. As she had expected, her eyes land on the newest addition to her staff. Soju is still shucking scallops, which means she hasn’t even started peeling and deveining the shrimp. Katya gets the container with the shrimp from the walk-in fridge, grabs her paring knife and gets to work right next to Soju.

“You’re gonna have to get faster at that,” she says matter-of-factly. Soju stares at her, clearly mortified that once again Katya has to come and help her out, and Katya tries her best to encourage her. “Everything you deliver is good, you just need to work on your confidence and get some routine, the speed will come with that.”

“Yes, chef.” 

Soju gets back to her scallops and Katya methodically works on the shrimp. It’s not a particularly pleasant task, but it needs to be done, and it’s important to her that everyone in her kitchen knows she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty. Besides, she generally likes the manual part of cooking. Katya isn’t just in it for the finishing touches and the praise; she likes seeing dishes through from beginning to end. There is also something deeply satisfying and meditative about cutting onions or vegetables into uniform pieces. 

“Did you read Mattel’s newest review?” 

Katya perks up at the conversation over at the meat station.

“Oh yeah, she really tore into him. Poor dude was just trying to sell some burgers, it’s not his fault she’s a crazy bitch.”

Katya’s knife stills in her hand as she listens to the two men talk.

“She must have not gotten properly fucked in years. No wonder when she’s like that,” the guy who had started the conversation contributes. Katya is about to turn around and give them a piece of her mind when the other makes it even worse.

“I’m pretty sure she does the fucking. She has all the parts,” he says with a laugh and the other man joins in.

Katya slams the handle of her knife down on the cutting board, and Soju jumps next to her. The kitchen is quiet all of a sudden, and everyone has turned around to look at her.

She stares at the two men. They haven’t been working for her very long, and she had been wary from the beginning. They were the typical mid-twenties guys you met in the business. Think they’re running the place because they have a decent palate and know how to grill some meat. She had thought hard work would drive it out of them, make them realize they have much more to learn, but she had had her suspicions that they and their egos weren’t a good fit for her place.

“That kind of talk is not going to happen in my kitchen, am I making myself clear? You would never,  _ never _ , talk about a man like that, so what on earth makes you think it’s acceptable when it’s about a woman?” They don’t reply, and Katya carries on. “And making jokes about people’s genitals? Really? What are you, twelve?”

The two of them have shrunk in on themselves and Katya steps closer. She’s not tall, but she has a presence and she knows how to use it.

“Women like Trixie Mattel have done more for the restaurant industry than you will probably accomplish in your entire career, and I will not have her or any other successful woman who you lack basic respect for be slandered like that.” She raises her voice so it’s obvious she’s addressing everyone, even though she can’t imagine anybody else here would say things like that. “Is that clear?”

A chorus of  _ yes, chef _ rings out around her and she nods sharply. “Everyone, back to work. You two!” The two offending men had been trying to turn around and carry on with their work, but now stare at her sheepishly. “I’ll see you in my office after dinner. I advise you to be careful with how you think and talk about women, especially when one is employing you.”

Katya gets back to her shrimp and forcefully exhales through her nose. Next to her Soju is staring at her with something akin to wonder, and when she notices she got caught, she finishes up her scallops at a new high speed.

Bob walks up to her and mutters, “Damn, girl, you alright?”

Katya nods. “If either of these two pulls another stunt, anything at all, I wanna hear about it.”

“Sure thing, boss.” It’s apparently enough to convince Bob she’s fine, and Katya’s sous-chef hurries back to her own station.

Katya is not going to fire them. They’ll get a warning, and the next time something like this occurs, she  _ will _ fire them, but they deserve the chance to prove themselves. Katya doesn’t have overly high hopes. What they said gives her a pretty good idea of how they talk about her when she’s not around. Maybe it really is time for her to stop hiring men altogether. These two had been so quick to defend some mediocre chef and attack the woman who’s been in the business for nearly as long as they’ve been alive.

Katya has read the review. It was the first thing she did this morning in bed, when the twitter notification from Trixie Mattel’s account popped up on her phone. She read it again over breakfast and earlier during her smoke break she had been rereading it again. The only way to describe that piece of writing is  _ scathing _ . 

She really does tear the chef apart, but not for selling burgers. No, he opened a burger restaurant and then acted like he had invented them, charging horrendous sums for low quality ingredients prepared by a too small and therefore overworked (and probably underpaid, Katya thinks) staff. Mattel had pointed out the complete lack of original recipes, which she could live with if the food was at least good. But instead she deems it “not much above your local Wendy’s.” Katya had actually gasped when she read that. 

As always, Mattel’s review is also absolutely hilarious. Her humor is brash and nobody is safe from it. But when it’s deserved, she is full of praise. Katya has watched the careers of overrated men crumble quickly after Mattel had deemed them not worth the hype, but in turn she has put people on the map who were making authentic, interesting and simply good food, and who otherwise would have been largely ignored in the business. Mattel doesn’t only review fine dining, she writes about little neighbourhood joints with the same amount of care as she does about Michelin star restaurants.

She seems to weather the storm of dented egos with ease, and Katya knows it’s much better now than it was twenty years ago, when Trixie Mattel showed up and demanded people take a trans woman seriously. She has given talks about that time and what she had to deal with, Katya has all of them saved on her laptop. The kind of experiences she described in them explain why she’s such a fiercely private person. She had to protect herself somehow. It unfortunately means that no matter how deep Katya digs, there is just not a lot of information about her out there. 

Katya has followed her work closely for all these years, but that’s all it’s been, work. With the dawn of the age of social media, Katya had hoped for some new tidbits coming from the woman herself, but her online presence was as impersonal as possible. Katya would be surprised if she ran it herself. Trixie Mattel’s words seem to appear out of a void and Katya has been meticulously cataloging them for her entire career. 

Has she been reliably informed that she has an obsession? Several times. Is that going to stop her? Absolutely not. She’s not doing anything harmful, just reading an established critic’s work over and over. So far she has yet to find anything Mattel and her disagree on. That makes it particularly jarring that in the past twenty-three years that Katya has worked as a cook, fifteen of those as the chef in her own restaurant, Trixie Mattel has never so much as mentioned Katya in her writing.

It’s not that she has no idea Katya exists. Her restaurant has become a household name in New York, thank you very much, and she opened a second one in San Francisco only last year. They’ve even met several times. Every time there’s an event honoring women in the culinary field, they’re both invited. They’re certainly not friends, barely acquaintances. All they’ve ever exchanged were pleasantries, and they both tend to slip away from those functions as early as politeness will allow. 

Mattel had even eaten at Perestroika once, shortly after it opened. Katya had made sure she was treated like any other guest, hadn’t tried to bribe her with samples and free dessert. She had prepared the dishes Mattel had picked, following Violet’s recommendations, with only slightly shaking hands. She had then stood behind the kitchen door, relying on Violet to relay every expression Mattel made while eating. She had finished everything she had ordered and, according to Violet, then sat at her table for a while, staring into nothingness, before paying and leaving. 

In the following weeks Katya had scoured every issue of the New York Times for Mattel’s review. She had given up hope after several months with disappointment sitting heavily in her stomach. Mattel apparently had no thoughts on Katya’s food, not enough to even warrant writing anything. It’s worse than knowing Trixie hates her cooking. Then Katya could agree to disagree and get over her stupid schoolgirl crush. She’s no idiot, she knows that that’s what this is. The most persistent crush of her life. It doesn’t help that Trixie is an absolute doll with a figure to die for and a voice that Katya can feel directly between her legs. 

It’s fine. She is 48 years old, and she doesn’t need Trixie Mattel’s validation. It’s fine.

*

“Kim is here,” Violet calls into the kitchen, and Katya groans. 

“Does she know we’re understaffed, and waiting times are a nightmare?”

“I have told her so, but her friend insisted she wait.”

“Yeah, her friend isn’t the one who has to actually sit there,” Katya mutters, pulling the pan from the stove and setting about plating the salmon. “Fine, give me her order.”

“She wants the lamb pelmeni,” Violet says evenly.

“Those aren’t on the menu anymore,” Katya explains slowly.

“Yes,  _ I _ know that, and I explained it to Kim, and she called her friend and they insisted on the lamb pelmeni.”

“Hot!” Bob barks behind her, and Katya moves out of the way, so Bob can put down the saucepan, and Katya can finish the plate. 

“There’s nothing I can do! I don’t have any pelmeni. I don’t even have any lamb to make them with. She can have anything else off the menu, preferably the Veal Orlov because that’s already prepared.” Katya yells all of this while she whirls around at the hot plate, wishing for at least two more arms. 

The two men she’s had to reprimand before had unfortunately chosen today to hit on Kameron during her break, and when she had turned them down, they had loudly talked about Katya probably having turned her. Kameron had come straight inside, walked up to Katya, and asked for them to be removed immediately. And if she could maybe beat them up a little.

Katya had agreed to the first part and had to turn down the second. She’s glad to see the back of them, but it unfortunately means they’re two people short for tonight’s service. Her staff is very capable and they all know and trust each other, but that can’t make up for everything. 

Violet rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’ll tell her.” She starts walking away.

“If her friend wants takeout, they should order pizza,” Katya still yells after her. 

Once or twice a month Kim comes by the restaurant. She never eats there herself, she just picks up something to go for a mysterious friend of hers. At first Katya, or rather Violet, had tried to send her away, and she left, but came back the next day with a list of words to describe Katya’s food that she insisted she read to Katya. They were all extremely nice words and Katya was not immune to flattery. Besides, Kim read them with the utmost level of disinterest, and it made Katya laugh so hard that she agreed. That was well over ten years ago and the visits have not stopped. As a bonus, Kim’s friend always tips very generously. Katya assumes it’s some celebrity who doesn’t want to be spotted going out. 

At first, the dishes Kim was supposed to pick up varied, but after a while her friend seemed to settle on a favorite - the lamb pelmeni. For that exact reason Katya had kept them on the menu for so long, but they weren’t ordered that often anymore, and they took a while to prepare, so it was simply the logical decision to take them off.

Violet comes back in. “She says she’ll take the Veal Orlov and her friend will just have to deal with it,” she breathes out in a sigh. Violet has a dining room full of impatient guests to wrangle, so Katya imagines Kim being a special snowflake isn’t her absolute favorite thing right now either.

“I got the veal,” Kameron shouts, and out of the corner of her eye Katya can see her rush around, packing up a portion of it. 

“Add some of the Syrniki, too,” Katya tells her. She’s not entirely sure why she’s adding free apology dessert for somebody she doesn’t even know, and who has been a moderate pain in Katya’s ass for over a decade, but she does.

Behind her, Bob snorts. “You’re way too nice.”

“Blame my advanced age,” Katya says with a grin, and that’s as much joking around as they have time for.

*

Katya’s ass hurts, and all she’s doing is sitting on this stupid banquet chair. Her body is used to being up all day, and that hurts too, but never from inactivity. Somehow her tights are slipping down even while she’s sitting, and the lacy material of her dress itches on her skin. On top of that she’s starving, even though it’s a banquet. She’s been here for an hour and no food has been served yet. 

On the stage somebody is giving a speech. Katya has no idea who he is, and she hasn’t listened to anything he’s said either. Apparently she’s decided to be petulant for this entire thing, and she’s annoyed with herself. It’s really only because she forgot about this event, but it’s for charity, and she had promised her friend Sasha she’d come. So instead of lying on her couch in sweatpants, she had to get dressed up and spend her evening off here. 

In the dark she can see somebody approach their table and pull out the empty chair next to Katya. She turns her head slightly and jumps a little when she realizes who it is.

Trixie Mattel is sitting next to her, giving her a brief smile and then attentively looking up at the stage. Rapidly Katya turns towards the stage too, not wanting to stare. She is suddenly extremely aware of her body. She straightens her spine, pulls her shoulders back, and then acts like she is interested in anything other than her sudden proximity to Trixie.

“What did I miss?” Trixie suddenly murmurs, and Katya looks at her surprised, unsure if Trixie meant her or the person on her other side. When she doesn’t answer, Trixie’s eyes flit to her and the corners of her mouth pull up, just for a second.

“Uh, don’t know. I haven’t been paying attention,” Katya admits.

Trixie tuts. “Don’t you care about whatever it is these rich people have congregated in this room for so they can be seen and photographed?” Her voice is perfectly even, but Katya snorts and gets a dirty look from the man on her other side. She smiles at him apologetically.

“They could at least feed us, I thought this was a banquet,” Trixie carries on. 

If they’re having a conversation, Katya can probably safely look at her without it being weird. Absolutely unsurprisingly, she’s beautiful, even in the near dark of the room. Her blonde hair is big and shiny, and her bold makeup is striking. She has both elbows leaning on the table, her chin resting on her folded hands, and Katya is very pointedly not looking at how it pushes her breasts together. She can’t make out the color of Trixie’s dress in the low light, but she bets it’s pink. It almost always is. Trixie has taken femininity to a new level, like she’s wrapped it around a baseball bat and  _ will _ beat you with it until you’re unconscious. Katya loves it.

“I know. I’d have stopped at KFC if I’d known it was gonna be like this.”

“Oh my God, I could go for that right now,” Trixie groans, and it takes Katya all her willpower not to fidget in her chair. ‘I could take you,’ wants to push past her lips, but she holds it back. Instead she stays silent. 

Katya thinks she can feel Trixie’s eyes on her, but she’s too worried she’s right to look back. If they made eye-contact now, Katya wouldn’t know what to do with herself. She claps mindlessly as the speech ends and the lights come up. 

“Finally,” Trixie says through the applause. She’s already picking up her napkin from the table and spreading it on the lap of her indeed pink dress. Katya does the same, before she’s even spotted the servers swarming around the tables in the room, setting down plates. They’re at the back of the room, the A-listers far away and getting served first, and Trixie sighs. 

"Don't you just love being invited to these things and then immediately reminded that you're not actually that important?"

Katya has no witty reply, she's too surprised that Trixie picked up their conversation again. She wants to be funny and smart and maybe even hot if she can manage that, make it worth Trixie's time. 

"But if we were important we'd have to sit with the other important people, and talk to them instead." It'll have to do. At least it should keep the conversation going.

Trixie almost smiles. "Wouldn't that be a shame."

Katya inhales deeply. It almost sounds like Trixie is flirting with her. She doesn't get to reply; it's their turn to be served. A tiny bowl of soup is placed in front of Katya, and she's already disappointed. It's not the kind of small portion that accommodates for more courses to come later, it's the kind of portion that tells you it's exclusive, and you should count yourself lucky to be allowed to eat it. Next to her Trixie sighs quietly. 

Katya lifts a spoonful to her mouth and the first thing she notices is that it's colder than it should be. It's also fairly bland, and the heat would have helped bring out the flavors. The man on Katya's left makes an almost orgasmic noise as he starts eating his soup, and the woman he's with echoes his enthusiasm. The other two people at the table mutter their assent. Katya's eyes search for Trixie's, and she's already looking at her. They don't have to say anything — they know. It takes four spoonfuls and then the stupidly tiny dish is empty. All it's done is make Katya more aware of how hungry she is.

The main course is a risotto and Katya mutters “what the…” when it doesn’t move on the plate. It’s just a solid lump of wet rice. The rice has been burned, and even the truffles added later cannot mask the taste. Once again she catches Trixie’s eyes and they share a look of understanding and commiseration, while the other guests at the table remark on the unusual flavor. Katya doesn’t have the heart to tell them that their gourmet experience is being spoiled by somebody not knowing when to add liquid to a risotto. They seem to be enjoying themselves. Neither Trixie nor her finish the course.

“If they don’t nail this, I’m walking out,” Trixie mutters quietly enough that only Katya can hear when they finally serve the dessert, and Katya hopes it’s horrendous so they can share this experience.

She is not disappointed. She takes a bite of the chocolate cake and it’s dense and underbaked, almost sludgy in texture. It feels like playdough in Katya’s mouth, and when she turns slightly, she sees that Trixie seems to be going through the five stages of grief, finally settling on acceptance with another sigh. Katya can’t help but laugh, and once she starts, Trixie joins in, one hand in front of her mouth, unsuccessfully trying to hide it. They both give up after that first bite.

After that the evening seems to drag on forever, with Trixie sitting right next to Katya the entire time, and occasionally dryly muttering comments that make Katya burst out laughing, but barely have Trixie pulling up the corners of her mouth. She seems to get a kick out of Katya embarrassing herself. That Trixie is apparently trying to get a reaction out of her makes Katya’s nerves buzz, and after a while she excuses herself to have a cigarette and try to calm down a little.

As she stands outside and smokes, Katya mentally recaps what she has learned about Trixie Mattel tonight:

  1. She’s funny. Obviously Katya knew that before, but she’s _funny_. She’s actively trying to make people (Katya) laugh.
  2. She’s easy to talk to. For somebody who is known as the bitch in the business, she seems to have no trouble inviting people (Katya) into the conversation.
  3. She is at least, if not more, as beautiful up close as she is from a distance, she smells good, and when she whispers, her voice gets even lower, and it has an immediate physical effect on Katya.

She finishes her cigarette and immediately lights another one. Behind her the door opens and she finds herself looking automatically, surprised to spot Trixie stalking out. It’s the first time Katya has gotten the full view of her look, and she’s glad she’s already smoking. She’s in a tight pencil dress, going down to her strong calves. It would count as business attire if not for its bright colour. Her silver stilettos look like the most uncomfortable things a person could possibly put on their feet, but they look damn good, and Katya doesn’t doubt for a second that Trixie knows that. They also make her tower over Katya quite a bit, and yet Trixie stands straight, with her shoulders back, not afraid to take up space.

She hasn’t spotted Katya yet, her eyes focused on her phone, and she’s typing with a frown on her face. When she’s done, she quickly slides the phone into her purse, and upon looking up meets Katya’s eyes with surprise on her face.

“Hi,” Katya offers, quickly exhaling smoke and then smiling.

“Oh! I thought you had left.”

“No, I just had to…” She trails off, unsure what to say.

“Process? Yes, I understand.” She drifts closer to Katya, her heels clacking on the asphalt, but stays at a safe distance, probably not wanting to get hit by cigarette smoke. Katya is tempted to put it out, but it’s nowhere near done and it’s the sole reason why she’s out here. 

“That was the worst meal I’ve had all year, at least. “

“Oh, easily,” Katya agrees. “And the nerve, to act like it was fine dining.”

“I know!” Trixie has raised her voice, and she takes a step closer. “Some people will really show up and tell everyone they’re good and others just believe them. I’ll have a well made burger anytime before I eat pretentious crap like that.”

“Ugh!” Katya groans. “I would kill for a burger right now.”

“Honestly, if I thought that would help, I'd be in on a murder."

"You know," Katya starts hesitantly, "if you'd like, we could head over to my restaurant. I'm sure there's some leftovers we could swipe."

Trixie grins. "Leftovers, huh? That's the kind of woman you think I am?"

"Hungry, that's the kind of woman I think you are."

She smiles and then cocks her head to the side. After what looks like a moment of consideration, she says, “I heard you took the lamb pelmeni off the menu, though, so I think I’ll pass.”

Katya inhales too quickly and chokes on her own smoke, coughing and wheezing with one hand in front of her mouth and tears burning in her eyes. 

It’s her. Trixie is Kim’s friend, she has to be. She  _ has  _ to be. Katya feels lightheaded and she can’t tell if it’s because she seems to have forgotten how to breathe properly, or because Trixie Mattel likes her food. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, Sasha shows up by Katya’s side and rubs her back, Katya only able to identify her by her bald head in her hunched over position.

“Oh dear, I wanted to ask you for a cigarette, what with how this event is going, but I just changed my mind.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” Katya says as she pulls herself upright, the coughing finally subsiding. Trixie is nowhere to be found. She must have slipped away while Katya was having her fit. 

“Where is she?” Katya asks frantically, looking around.

“Who?”

“Trixie Mattel!”

“Oh, I think I saw her walking towards the parking lot. Maybe you can still… catch her.” The end of Sasha’s sentence trails off as a black car flies by them, the big blonde hair making it undeniable who's in the backseat, and Katya thinks she can see Trixie give them a little wave. 

“Sasha?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have access to the contact information of the people here tonight?” Katya asks with determination. She remembers Sasha saying something about being in charge of the guest list and seating charts. For Sasha’s sake Katya hopes she didn’t choose the catering.

“I do.” She gives Katya a sympathetic look, and she already knows what she’s going to say next.

“But you can’t give that out to some random person, even if they’re your friend?”

Sasha nods and once again pats Katya’s back. “Sorry.”

“No, I understand. It’s fine. I’ll think of something else.” She’ll have to. Katya needs answers, and she thinks she has a place to start.

*

First, Katya tries it through the official channels. Trixie’s website links to her twitter and there’s her NY Times email address, that Katya is fairly sure doesn’t even land directly in Trixie’s inbox, otherwise she wouldn’t put it there. So Katya disregards that right away, and even though she doesn’t have high hopes, she tries to DM her on twitter. But Trixie doesn’t follow her, and apparently hasn’t enabled others to send her messages. Katya hadn’t really expected to get anywhere this way, so she isn’t that disappointed.

No, her key to all this is Kim. At the beginning, when all this business with her mysterious friend started, they tried to find out who it was. But Kim was sworn to secrecy and evidently a loyal enough friend to actually honor that. It didn’t bother Katya all that much. It had even been fun to sometimes over the last couple of years imagine which celebrity was currently enjoying her cooking in their home. Katya had hoped it was Julia Roberts, until Violet had destroyed all her dreams by informing her that Julia lived in Malibu. This was better than Julia Roberts.

Katya waits for two weeks, but Kim doesn’t show up at the restaurant. That’s not that uncommon; sometimes a whole month passes until they see her again. Katya isn’t willing to wait that long. She has a feeling she’s not going to come anymore. It’s up to her to find Kim. Over lunch, Katya as casually as she can manage asks her kitchen staff if anybody maybe follows her on social media or at least knows her last name. They all just shake their heads.

“Why, what do you want from Kim?” Bob asks, sounding suspicious.

Katya grins. “I think I figured out who her friend is.”

“Her friend?” Dela asks into the stunned silence. Katya has hired her as a replacement for the two guys she had to fire. Somehow she easily seems to take on both their jobs. Bob quickly explains the situation with Kim.

“So? Who is it?” Bob prompts. “God, I hope it’s not an asshole.”

“It’s Trixie Mattel.” Saying it out loud feels unreal. Katya has held onto the secret for weeks now, the knowledge, or at least the suspicion, sitting with her and giving her a sense of both excitement and pride every time she poked at it. “At least I have reason to believe it is.”

Kameron whistles low. “That’s a good person to have liking your food.”

Bob just stares at her. She and Violet are the only two here who understand the full depth of Katya’s admiration for the woman. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, we met at an event a while back, and she said something about the pelmeni.”

“You  _ talked _ to her?”

“Yes, ma’am. We had a full conversation.” Katya is still grinning.

“Oh my God, does that mean I never again have to watch you lie on the floor in front of your couch at 2 am, pouring wine into yourself and whining about her not liking you?” Bob dryly asks her.

“Shut up! I’ve never done that.” Bob just gives her a look. “I haven’t done that in at least a year,” Katya admits quietly into her potatoes. “Anyway, none of you are being helpful. How do I find her?”

“Hey, Violet!” Bob hollers right next to Katya and she jumps a little. Seconds later Violet pushes the swinging door between kitchen and dining room open.

“Yes?”

“Boss lady wants to cyber stalk Kim. Do you have an idea how we can find out her last name?”

“I’m not stalking anyone, I just want to send her a message!” Katya defends herself. She has to admit asking Violet is probably a smart move. She’s significantly younger than Katya and seems glued to her phone most of the time, whereas Katya checks Twitter twice a week and that’s usually enough to not make her want to interact with humanity anymore.

Violet shrugs. “I don’t know, type everything you know about her into Google?” she suggests. 

“Oh, yeah. That could work,” Katya mutters, a little embarrassed that she didn’t think of that herself. She pulls out her phone and types ‘Kim New York’. Before she hits enter she realizes that’s probably not going to give her anything useful, and she adds ‘trixie mattel.’ It spits out a whole lot of articles about Trixie. Two years ago she did a series trying to find the best kimchi in town, and it’s messing up Katya’s results. 

“This is not working!” she complains, already wanting to put her phone away, but Bob snatches it out of her hand.

“Wait, wait, wait! At least check page two.” She taps ‘Next page.’

“Anything that requires me to go to the second page of search results is not worth knowing,” Katya half-heartedly argues, but she appreciates Bob taking an interest. Actually they’re all taking an interest. Her entire kitchen staff plus Violet are staring expectantly at Bob. 

“A-ha!” she exclaims triumphantly after some more scrolling, and puts Katya’s phone back in front of her face.

She takes it and looks at the page. It’s an old article by Trixie about an art show, from before she wrote exclusively about food, exploring non-traditional forms of art, apparently including food and makeup, and it mentions up and coming makeup artist Kim Chi, whose work Trixie expresses her admiration for.

“Huh,” Katya says at that. She named herself after food and she’s really into makeup. That seems like the kind of person Trixie might befriend. She opens a new tab, this time typing in ‘kim chi makeup’ and immediately Kim’s face greets her, except it’s covered in bright colors and glitter. Katya taps a link, sending her to Kim’s instagram account. She turns her phone around to show the others.

“Found her.”

“So what now?” Violet asks from where she’s lingering in the doorway.

“Now you can all mind your own business.”

Bob gives her an unimpressed look. “Ungrateful woman.”

“I’m very grateful, and I’d be even more grateful if you could let me beg this poor unsuspecting person for a woman’s phone number in peace, and get back to work,” Katya says with a nod towards the clock on the wall. Around her people get up, putting their dishes away and shuffling back to whatever it is they’re supposed to be doing. Katya stays where she is. Luckily Kim has a twitter, too. Katya follows her and then sets about DMing her. She types, erases and retypes her message several times until she’s happy with what she has composed.

_ Hi Kimberley! I have entertained your friend’s wishes for years and I think I deserve an answer. Also if I’m right you might never have to hang around my restaurant waiting again. Please just tell me if your friend is Trixie Mattel. If it’s not her, I don’t even care, you can just say no. But I need to know if it’s her. _

She hits ‘Send’ and stares at the bubble with her message in the otherwise empty conversation for a moment. Then she turns off the screen and gets back to work. She has a dinner service to prepare, she can’t sit around and wait for a message from a woman, hoping it’ll let her get in touch with another woman. She still checks a few times until dinner service starts, but Kim hasn’t replied. When she gets home, she has a message waiting for her.

_ I told you I can’t tell you _

That’s all she has written.

_ Can you at least say no and tell me I’m wrong? _

This time Kim’s reply comes right away

_ no _

_ and that means I’m not telling you if you’re wrong or right, not that you are wrong or right _

Katya groans. Then she has an idea and quickly goes over her schedule in her mind.

_ Okay, on Thursday I’m making lamb pelmeni and whoever they are, they’re invited. They can either be there at 7 or never get to eat them again. _

She adds her address.

_ Will you tell them? _

Kim has read the message, but her reply takes another half hour. By then Katya is already in bed.

_ I’ve told them _

_ now leave me out of this _

Katya snorts.

_ Thank you! _

Now all she can do is wait, and hope she's not wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katya swallows. "What are we doing here, Trixie?" she asks, almost too quiet with the music playing.
> 
> "You're feeding me," Trixie replies at the same volume, her gentleness taking Katya by surprise.
> 
> "Is that all?"
> 
> "I hope not." Trixie's hand slides across the table, and despite all her earlier bravado, the fingers that are now gently brushing against Katya's seem to be shaking a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the wonderful reception the first chapter got, I hope you enjoy where I take this! My eternal gratitude to the validation station ladies, especially [beanie](https://katiehoughton.tumblr.com/) for betaing.
> 
> The song that's mentioned in this is I Belong To You by Brandi Carlile.

The few days until Thursday and the potential pelmeni date drag on forever and somehow pass too quickly at the same time. Katya has to work; the restaurant is always busy, and it keeps her from spiraling completely. She still finds time once a day to drag Bob into the walk-in and vent her anxieties. What if it’s not Trixie? What if she gave out her home address to a complete stranger, and she’ll have to spend a whole evening with them? What if it  _ is _ Trixie and they don’t get along? They’ve only talked briefly before. What if after ten minutes they have nothing more to say to each other? What if Katya screws up the pelmeni? She never has before, but she's never made them with Trixie around. How on earth is she supposed to concentrate if Trixie is with her in the kitchen?

What if it is Trixie, and she doesn’t show up? What if she doesn’t actually care beyond wanting to eat some decent food, and doesn’t want to spend any time with Katya? Or what if she does show up liking Katya and leaves having changed her mind?

Bob calmly and patiently talks every scenario through with her, helping to soothe her anxiety as far as possible, and only making fun of her a little.

“For all our sakes I hope it’s her, and that she shows up and lets you fuck her,” she says on Wednesday night after closing, with one hand heavy on Katya’s shoulder. “I can’t do this for much longer.”

Katya has the whole Thursday off, for the first time in weeks, and she had planned to sleep in but she’s up before the sun is. She goes for a run, and when she gets out of the shower, it’s still only 7:30. Getting the groceries for tonight takes time. Katya swings by her butcher for the lamb, and gets fresh garlic, shallots and some lovely lemons from her greengrocer. She has parsley and bay growing in pots on her windowsill so she’s all set there. 

When Katya gets home, she takes another shower, because she’s sweaty from nerves and her grocery run, and then tries to blow-dry her hair into some kind of shape. Usually for work she puts it up in a quick bun or a ponytail, a braid if she’s feeling fancy. It looks luxurious for about two minutes after she puts the blowdryer down, then her fine hair collapses like a soufflé. It’s gotten darker and grayer in the last couple of years, with the first threads of silver coming through. Katya likes it; she thinks getting older suits her. Even as a little girl she thought that old women were the best, mostly because they got to do whatever they wanted. She doesn’t think of herself as truly old, but with every passing year she cares less about what people think of her. Except for Trixie. Katya cares very much about what Trixie thinks of her. 

She puts on a little makeup. Foundation to even out her always blotchy complexion, mascara to make her eyes look bigger, and a deep red lip because she’s read somewhere that you should choose one focus point for your face and feature that. And maybe she wants Trixie to focus on her mouth. She dresses in black jeans and a sleeveless black blouse. She doesn’t think it matters much: she’ll probably have an apron on for most of the evening anyway. 

She could get started on prep. She could make the dough and prepare the filling, maybe even finish the dumplings and put them in the fridge, so later she only has to dump them into boiling water. They could eat within ten minutes. But Katya wants to make them with Trixie. If she really does like them so much, maybe she’d appreciate learning how to make them herself. Katya also wants to show off for her. Of all the things Katya knows how to make, pelmeni are not the most impressive by far, but she can knead dough and carefully shape little uniform dumplings. She had to start her sour cream two days ago, so there’s nothing impressive about adding that, but it is homemade. Usually she doesn’t bother, it’s not significantly better than store-bought, but she doesn’t want to cut any corners tonight.

She waters the herbs on her windowsill, wipes her counters down for the third time, and awkwardly climbs out of the window to smoke on the fire escape a few times in between. Usually she just smokes out of the open window, but she remembers how Trixie had kept her distance from Katya’s cigarette, so for today she’s not smoking inside the apartment. Then there truly is nothing left to do but wait. 

*

Her doorbell rings a few minutes before seven, and Katya answers it in seconds. She had been pacing up and down the hallway for half an hour already. The intercom hasn’t worked properly in years, and she just hears static on the other end, so Katya buzzes her guest in, still not knowing who it is. Then she waits behind the closed door of her apartment. She doesn’t want to awkwardly stand there while Trixie  — and she prays it’s Trixie  — walks down the hall from the elevator. She also doesn’t want her to think Katya isn’t excited about this, so she ends up forcefully pulling the door open anyway. 

Trixie is standing right in front of her, one hand raised to knock, a bottle of wine in the other. She jumps a little when Katya opens the door so suddenly. Once the shock settles, she is still wide-eyed and she swallows visibly.

“Hi.” She gives Katya an uncertain smile. 

Katya exhales in relief, feeling like she’s pushing lead out of her body with how light she seems to be all of a sudden.

“I’m so glad it’s you,” she breathes, and Trixie’s smile gets bigger, making her cheeks rounder and her eyes crinkle. “Uh, come in!” Katya steps aside to let her pass. When they’re inside the apartment, Trixie hands her the bottle of wine. 

“I thought this would go well with the lamb.”

With a smile Katya registers it’s a Cabernet Sauvignon, like the one standing on her counter, waiting to be opened. Trixie’s is nicer, though. 

“Thank you, it’s perfect.”

They’re standing close together in Katya’s narrow hallway, Trixie towering over her, and Katya finds herself in the cloud of her perfume. It’s floral, but not the girly kind, with something slightly musky underneath, heady but not overpowering. It still makes her feel a little lightheaded, or maybe that’s just Trixie.

She’s in a plain white blouse, the sleeves folded up neatly just below her elbows, and with the top two buttons undone, giving a hint of cleavage. She’s in a tight camel pencil skirt, her pumps matching in color. She’s put her hair up neatly, but behind her ears and at the back of her neck, hairs that are too short for her updo are sticking to her skin. Sitting on her nose are a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and they’re bringing all of Katya’s sexy librarian fantasies to life. She probably came straight from the office.

Katya pulls herself together. “Right, shall we?” She gestures to the open door to the kitchen and follows Trixie through it. Trixie stops only a few feet into the room, looking around. It's an open living area, but most of it is taken up by the kitchen with its shiny stainless steel countertops and the large island in the middle of the room that Katya had put in. Other than that there’s a big bookshelf along one wall, a couch and TV tucked into the corner. The two halves of the room are separated by a solid wood dining table that Katya has set with two places. 

“You have a lovely home.” It’s not just a polite thing to say. Trixie takes it all in with genuine curiosity on her face.

Katya thanks her and finds herself drifting further towards the kitchen counter. “I thought maybe we could do this together?” She points at the ingredients she has already set out, two folded up aprons next to them. Trixie drops her purse on the island and then, instead of joining Katya, sits down on a stool across from where Katya is standing, crossing her legs.

“No.”

“No?” Katya feels momentarily derailed, but then Trixie gives her a small smile.

“I want you to make them for me. And I’ll have a glass of that wine, thank you.” She points at the bottle Katya is still holding.

“Oh, uh, right.” Katya sets the bottle down and opens the cabinet, getting out two red wine glasses. She could get her decanter as well and make it a whole production, but Katya doesn’t actually care about wine all that much. She thinks Trixie doesn’t either, judging by her reviews, so she pours them a glass each. Katya sets the one for Trixie down on the kitchen island, and with two fingers on the foot of the glass, the stem securely between them, she slides it across the smooth surface. 

Trixie’s hand meets her halfway, the V of her fingers sliding around Katya’s. Her nails aren’t pink, but they’re shiny. She’s squeezing slightly, so Katya’s fingers are stuck, and she can’t follow her first instinct to pull her own hand back. Holding Katya’s gaze, Trixie spreads her fingers a little, not enough to stop touching her, but enough that their skin isn’t pressed tightly together anymore, and Katya feels the absence.

Katya is the one to finally pull back all the way, when it gets too much. To distract herself she swirls the wine in her own glass for a moment before taking a small sip, making an appreciative noise at the taste. It really is a nice wine. She sets her glass down again, and springs into action, pulling an apron over her head and tying the strings in front of her body. 

As Katya gathers up the ingredients for the dough, sets them on the island so Trixie can see what she’s doing, and then grabs a bowl and some utensils, she can feel Trixie’s eyes on her the entire time. She tries to distract herself from it by getting to work, but it’s unnerving measuring out flour in total silence while she’s being stared at.

“So you’re really just gonna sit there and watch me work?” she asks to fill the silence.

“That’s the plan, yes.”

Katya looks up from the kitchen scales and meets Trixie’s eyes. She sits with one elbow on the counter, her chin resting on her hand, and she’s smiling.

“Tell me about what you’re doing?” she prompts. 

“Right! I’m really just making a pasta dough, nothing exciting,” Katya explains as she dumps the flour into the food processor and adds eggs.

“Is it at least an old family recipe that’s been passed down through generations?” Trixie asks with a grin.

“Oh, Jesus, no. My grandma was a terrible cook, truly horrendous. I refused to eat any of her food. So when I complained, she would say,” Katya puts on her heaviest Russian accent, “‘Katenka, if you don’t like it, you make it yourself,’ so I found an old cookbook and I did.” Trixie laughs an airy, goofy laugh, and Katya feels accomplished. “Then I quickly started putting my own spin on things. I was pretty much cooking every night from when I was 14. My parents barely ever made anything themselves.”

Trixie makes a noise of surprise.

“What?”

“You were in med school though, right?”

Katya is taken aback by her knowing that, and it takes her a moment to collect her thoughts enough to explain, “Yeah, but I flunked out after the first semester. Never went to any of my classes. I found a job as a line cook at a tiny Italian place, and I spent pretty much all of my time there.”

Trixie nods slowly. “Did you throw it on purpose?”

Katya snorts. “I told myself I wasn’t, and that it just kind of happened, but yes. Yes, I did.” She adds water, salt and a bit of oil to the food processor. “I knew I wanted to be a chef, but my parents were very against the idea. They were both professors, and they had bigger things planned for me than cooking, because that’s not a job, it’s just what women do.”

“Ah, of course.”

Their conversation comes to a halt for a moment while Katya blitzes all the ingredients in the food processor. Afterwards she flours the surface of the kitchen islands and dumps what’s going to be the dough onto it. Trixie watches as Katya starts kneading it. 

“Anyway, after that I was allowed to go to culinary school, apparently having proven that I really was unwilling to do anything else.”

“I can’t imagine you as a doctor.” Trixie looks her up and down, as if she’s mentally replacing the apron with scrubs or maybe a white coat.

“Me neither, and I wasn’t ever interested in it.” In her hands, the dough is coming together, the gluten starting to develop, and Katya keeps digging the heel of her hand into it to get it to where she wants it to be. The entire time she feels Trixie’s eyes on her, and Katya makes sure to put all her muscle into the process. She has a fairly neutral view of her own body, she’s too old and too much of a dyke to be susceptible to vanity or being overly critical of her appearance. Katya keeps herself in good shape; she has to, her job is too physically demanding to get away with not doing it. Just because she doesn’t particularly care for her own appearance, doesn’t mean she can’t put her toned arms on display sometimes.

“How about you? How did you end up in food journalism?” This is Katya’s chance to get out all those questions she’s had knocking around in her head for years. 

“I didn’t do just food at first, I wrote a lot about music when I started out at The Times. Art too, but I was never very good at that. They just gave me the jobs nobody wanted to take. But food was always my one true love.” Trixie takes a sip of her wine, slowly, as if she’s buying more time. “Eating was always the one physical, sensory thing I could do without having to wonder how my body fit into it. Unlike singing, or dancing.” After another moment of hesitation she adds, “Or sex.” 

“I’m a big fan of eating,” Katya says matter-of-factly, not looking up from her dough, and Trixie snorts.

“I bet you are.”

When Katya does look up at that, Trixie is smirking at her, and Katya openly grins back. 

She didn’t think this was going to be so easy. She’s doing something she’s good at, and she’s talking to somebody who apparently likes her, as strange as that still is to even think. Katya has spent years telling herself that just because she loves Trixie’s writing, agrees with her assessment of food, and laughs at her jokes, it doesn’t mean that she actually knows her. Now, with Trixie sitting in her kitchen, chatting while Katya cooks, it feels like it. Like they’ve known each other forever, and they’re just two friends catching up. 

Maybe friends isn’t quite the right word, Trixie seems to have some decidedly non-platonic things on her mind. That makes it harder for Katya, since she’s been telling herself since that night at the banquet to not get her hopes up. Right now, Katya’s hopes are pushing at the roof. She’s glad she has something to do to keep her hands occupied and her mind from overthinking everything that happens between them. 

They’re both quiet as Katya rolls out the dough with her pasta machine. When she starts cutting out circles, Katya finally addresses what hangs in the air between them.

“So are we going to talk about the insane scheme you came up with so you could eat my food but never talk about it?”

Trixie regards her with a steady gaze. “No.”

She says it with such calm determination that Katya bursts out laughing, her flailing hands sprinkling flour all over the place. “Okay, we won’t, then.”

“I’m…” Trixie looks embarrassed as she seems to be searching for the right words. “We will, but not today. I can’t explain it yet.”

Katya nods. “Okay,” she repeats. She cares more about the promise of another time than getting an answer. Trixie had seemed so calm and collected until now, but she’s fidgety all of a sudden. She keeps unfastening and fastening her watch, and it makes a clicking noise every time it snaps securely into place again. Katya feels bad for bringing up what she did and making Trixie nervous, so she quickly wipes the flour from her hands onto the apron, fishes her phone out of her pocket and opens Spotify. 

“Can you pick some music? I gotta make the filling.” She holds her phone out to Trixie, and she takes it with a look of surprise on her face. As Katya walks to the fridge with the circles of dough, she switches on the bluetooth speaker she usually uses to listen to podcasts while she cooks. By the time Katya has located the ground lamb in her fridge, the kitchen is already filled by the plucking of a guitar and a woman’s voice, smoky but soft. Katya doesn’t know it, but the music is pleasant enough, and she hopes it makes Trixie a little more comfortable.

“Risky move, handing me your phone like that.” Trixie holds it out to her with the hint of a smile on her lips when Katya is back at her spot behind the counter.

“What are you gonna do, call my mom? Tweet embarrassing things in my name?” Katya reaches for her phone, but Trixie pulls it back at the last second.

“Now there’s an idea.” She hands it over anyway, their fingers brushing for a second, and Katya just holds the phone in her hand for moment, like she’s holding hands with Trixie by proxy. 

“You got a text, by the way. Bob wants to know how it’s going, and if we’re fucking yet.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Katya crumples a little under the embarrassment, and Trixie screeches out a laugh, her mouth wide and her eyes warm on Katya. Maybe that’s worth the embarrassment. She places her phone on the counter, screen facing down, and refuses to acknowledge Bob’s text in any way. Katya takes a swig of her wine before she starts on the filling, finely chopping the shallots first.

She works silently for a while, Trixie’s eyes on her the entire time. Trixie is gently humming along to the music she’s picked, and at one point she gets up to refill her wine glass. She tops up Katya’s glass as well, even though it’s still half full, and on the way back to her stool her hand brushes along Katya’s naked forearm as she's zesting a lemon. It could be accidental, but it isn’t. It’s the longest Katya has ever needed to make the filling, and she almost forgets the cayenne. 

Trixie’s gaze is burning on her as Katya folds up the little parcels, gently pressing the dough together with her fingertips, careful not to rip it. When she only has a few more to do, she puts a large pot filled with water on the stove, so it can come to a boil. She drops three bay leaves and a handful of peppercorns into it, and Trixie makes a surprised noise.

“Bay leaves and pepper! I’ve been wondering how you get that subtle spice. I knew it was too delicate for being boiled in broth.”

Katya grins at Trixie having wondered about her process. “Yup, just for that little bit of extra punch. More of a gentle push, really.” Trixie hums in agreement. 

Finally Katya slides the finished little dumplings into the boiling water and starts tidying up as they cook. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Trixie shaking her head slightly.

“What?”

“It’s just… that’s so simple! They don’t have any right to be as delicate and tender and addictive as they are.”

Katya laughs at her sounding genuinely upset. “I know, they’re a favorite of mine.”

“Really?” 

“Mh-hmm. I always have a few portions in the freezer for when I’m too lazy to cook.”

Trixie sputters out a laugh. “Are you telling me you have some ready to go, and you still spent the last hour making fresh ones from scratch?”

“Of course, I can’t serve you my freezer pelmeni.” Katya snorts. ‘You might decide you don’t like them after all,’ she doesn’t say, nor ‘You might decide you don’t like me after all.’ She busies herself scooping the now floating pelmeni out of the water and onto the two plates she has waiting. She places flakes of butter on them, that melt right away, and sprinkles fresh parsley across the pelmeni.

“Sit down, sit down.” Katya pulls off her apron. She gestures towards the table, and Trixie gets up, grabbing both their wine glasses as she heads over. Katya balances the two plates on one arm, with the other hand grabbing the bowl of sour cream. She serves Trixie first and receives a smile and a thank you.

“Oh my God,” Trixie groans as she takes her first bite. “I’ve never had them this fresh, I’ve always had to reheat them at home. They’re even better like this.”

Katya soaks up the praise, and quietly starts eating while Trixie continues making noises of appreciation. They travel through Katya and firmly settle at her core. She knows she’s hopelessly gone. Trixie can take from her whatever she wants, but despite all her talk and all the hints, she seems to be satisfied with food for now.

Katya hadn’t been lying when she said this was one of her favorite dishes, but Trixie’s enthusiasm makes her taste it like she’s eating it for the very first time. The first thing on her tongue is the melted butter, rich, warm and coating the inside of her mouth. Her teeth glide through the fragile dough, sinking into the soft center that fills her mouth with an intricate blend of spices and the natural flavor of the lamb. It’s so tender she barely has to chew. The next one she dips into the sour cream, and its tanginess offsets the butter beautifully. A moan pours out of her own mouth, and Trixie inhales audibly.

“It’s so good, isn’t it?” Trixie’s eyes are on Katya, her mouth a little open as she waits for the reply.

“Yeah, really good.”

In the background the same woman’s voice as before is still singing over twanging guitars and a steady beat. Over and over she repeats ‘I belong to you now,’ and Katya knows Trixie hasn’t done anything since she’s put the music on, Katya’s phone still resting on the kitchen island. Yet it seems too fitting to be a coincidence. 

"I'm glad you took them off the menu," Trixie says, her voice coming out rough, like it's taking some effort to speak. "I don't want you to make them for anyone else."

Katya swallows. "What are we doing here, Trixie?" she asks, almost too quiet with the music playing.

"You're feeding me," Trixie replies at the same volume, her gentleness taking Katya by surprise.

"Is that all?"

"I hope not." Trixie's hand slides across the table, and despite all her earlier bravado, the fingers that are now gently brushing against Katya's seem to be shaking a little.

“Yeah?” Katya turns her hand palm up, and Trixie slots her own hand against it, their fingers intertwining. It’s the most deliberate touch they’ve shared, an open acknowledgement of them rapidly tumbling into  _ something _ . Katya regards their fingers in between one another, Trixie’s are longer and thicker, her nails short but manicured, her own with a bit of parsley stuck underneath one nail. She squeezes her hand. “I’d like that.”

They both extricate their fingers to keep on eating, and Katya can feel the touch lingering. 

“I feel like I should get something out of the way,” she says after a moment and sits up straight. 

“Oh! Okay.” Trixie looks at her expectantly, setting her fork down on her plate.

“I’m a huge fan of your work. I’ve followed you since you started making a name for yourself, and I have copies of all your reviews, and it’s maybe a little stalkerish, but you’re so smart, and I always agree with you on the food, and I love that you don’t let people get away with bullshit. So, yeah. That’s it,” Katya rattles off, and then looks at Trixie for her reaction.

She’s smiling. “Oh, I know.”

“What?”

“I follow you on Twitter.” She’s openly grinning now, and Katya feels like someone pulled the rug from underneath her feet.

“No, you’re not. I  _ know _ you’re not,” Katya insists, dumbfounded.

“Sure I am, with my private account. My official one is completely run by my assistant.” Trixie takes a sip of her wine, and when she sets the glass down her fingers keep playing with the rim. “I’ve seen you retweet and like everything that’s posted there. And I’ve seen you defend me to trolls. It’s not necessary, but I do appreciate it a lot.”

Katya wants to feel embarrassed, but Trixie’s eyes are warm on her again. “It  _ is _ necessary,” she mumbles. “Somebody has to say something.”

“I’m glad it’s you.”

Katya has never seen her look at anyone like that, and more than anything else she wants to kiss Trixie, but the thought of actually leaning forward and putting her mouth on Trixie’s is terrifying. Katya is still struggling with the concept of Trixie Mattel willingly sitting at her dining table, eating her food. So she just clears her throat.

“So, yes, I’m a little obsessed with you, I thought you should know.”

Trixie snorts. “Right, because I definitely have behaved totally normally, and have not thought about wrestling you to the ground and tearing your clothes off since that time I ate at Perestroika, and every time since then when I’ve had Kim smuggle food to me. And every time I’ve happened to run into you somewhere.”

Katya makes a involuntary choking noise, giving a voice to the feeling in her belly that arose at Trixie’s words. “Jesus Christ.”

“What? Too much?” She seems genuinely concerned, and Katya shakes her head.

“No, just… unexpected,” she says truthfully. It’s only hitting her now that all this time she has spent staring a Trixie from across rooms, across the internet, across newspapers before that, Trixie had been doing the exact same thing. Katya can’t think of a single other person she has admired for so long and so fiercely, and to have that met with similar enthusiasm makes her lightheaded. “This seems too good to be true.”

“Yes, what a dream that must be, having a middle-aged bitch be too awkward to talk to you for about fifteen years.” Trixie gives her a dry smile, and Katya leans back in her chair, rolling her eyes.

“I’m just as middle-aged and just as awkward, and anyone who has ever called you a bitch was mad because they didn’t have any real arguments to counter what you were saying,” she argues. “You’re honest and fearless, and the world could use many more women like you.”

Trixie stares at her, wide-eyed and blinking, and she’s gripping her fork so hard her knuckles are white.

“And don’t act like you don’t know you’re unbelievably beautiful, you make that happen every day!” Katya keeps going, her hands fluttering through the air, vaguely gesturing to all of Trixie. She notices she’s raised her voice a little, having talked herself into somewhat of a frenzy. “Sorry,” she adds more quietly. Trixie just shakes her head.

“Thank you.” Her hand unclenches around her fork, and she reaches for Katya’s forearm, closing her fingers around it and squeezing for a moment.

Sheepishly, Katya picks up her wine glass and takes a swig, hoping the alcohol might calm her nerves, but knowing that it usually just makes her sweaty and uncomfortable. It all got a little too real all of a sudden. She doesn’t regret laying herself out like that, raw and open and ready for Trixie to stick her hands in and pull out whatever she wants. Katya still wants to go back to the easy flirting and the innuendo, the tension in the air connecting them like a pumping vein. That hadn’t been nearly as scary.

Trixie also seems to be struggling with regaining her balance. She pops another pelmeni into her mouth, and chews with a sigh. 

“These are worth waiting all those years for.”

Katya doesn’t argue, she returns to her own dinner instead, knowing she’s never going to eat pelmeni again without thinking of Trixie.

They stay where they are once their plates are empty and Katya has cleared them and put in the dishwasher. They could move to the couch, but somehow it feels right to sit at the table. They talk about regular date stuff, like books they've read or were intending to read. Trixie asks her about her obsession with Russian 90s pop that she has picked up on from Twitter. It leads to Katya talking about the years she spent at different culinary schools, first in Europe and then in Russia during the early 90s.

In turn Trixie talks about the awful things she had to cover when she started out as a journalist, and how she only got hired as a woman by another woman and with the requirement to write about local hot dog eating competitions and supermarket openings. Katya can’t imagine the dedication and stamina it must have taken to go from that to being the most respected and feared food critic in the country. And still, Trixie talks about that time with fondness.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like having a big office, and an assistant, and not buying my clothes from Walmart anymore. But it was my first job, I was far away from home, and people were calling me Trixie for the first time. Well, Beatrice back then.”

“Why did you start going by Trixie?”

She grins. “Because people were starting to get really mad at what I was writing, and I wanted there to be absolutely no doubt that it was a woman destroying their careers. A real girly girl.”

Katya laughs with flailing limbs. It makes Trixie scream-laugh, and they keep egging each other on until Katya is shaking, but no sound leaves her open mouth anymore.

“God, you  _ are _ a bitch!” she gasps once she's regained some of her composure.

“I told you!”

At some point they have both leaned in, and Katya has her fingers wrapped around Trixie’s wrist. They’ve stopped laughing, but they’re both still breathless with it, and their eyes are shining with giddiness. All Katya hears is their breathing evening out again and her own heartbeat loud in her ears. Trixie’s gaze drops to Katya’s mouth and she seems to slowly tip forward.

Their faces are right in front of each other, and Katya's eyes flutter shut, waiting for Trixie to close that last small distance between them. It doesn’t happen. Then, instead of her mouth, something cold and wet touches Katya's bottom lip, and she jumps a little, opening her eyes again. Trixie is still right in front of her, but between them is her index finger with its tip coated in sour cream. She brings it to her mouth, and at the same time Katya sucks her sour cream covered lip into her mouth, her eyes on Trixie's tongue as she licks her finger clean.

“It’s getting late, I should go,” Trixie murmurs, and she’s probably imagining it, but Katya thinks she can feel the vibrations of her voice deep in her own stomach. 

“Okay.” It’s not what she wants to say. She wants for them to stay right here, in the bubble of Katya’s apartment, with the loud world staying far away, and them as close as possible. 

But Trixie gets up, so Katya follows suit. With every step Trixie takes towards the front door, the noise of her heels rips a new hole into their bubble, and when they reach the end of the hallway, Katya feels sober in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol. Trixie has one hand on the doorknob, but she doesn’t move, just looks down at Katya.

“Thank you for this entire evening.”

“It was my pleasure,” Katya assures her truthfully.

“Text me.” Trixie smiles slowly and raises one hand to Katya’s face. “Next time is my treat.” Her thumb brushes across Katya’s lip with enough pressure to drag it to the side, and Katya’s mouth falls open at the sensation. Then Trixie is out the door, and Katya is standing on the threshold by herself.

“I don’t have your number!” She sticks her head out into the hallway, watching Trixie’s swaying hips move towards the elevator. She keeps walking, but looks back over her shoulder.

“Check your phone,” Trixie calls, and then presses the button. The doors slide open right away and Trixie is gone.

Katya pulls her apartment door closed and pats down her pants, the familiar feeling of the phone in her pocket missing. She remembers she left it in the kitchen after Trixie set up the music for them. It’s still waiting for her on the counter, and when Katya unlocks it, she goes straight to her contacts. She spots it right away, since Trixie hasn’t just put her name, but added a pink bow and a heart with a ribbon around it. She hasn’t put her name in as Trixie Mattel, just Trixie. Katya opens up a new text conversation.

**Katya**

_ Can I see you again soon? _

The reply is almost instantaneous.

**Trixie **

_ I hope so.  _

_ I’ll be seeing you as soon as I’m in bed and have my underwear off. _

“Fuck.” Katya tries to put the phone down, but in her haste drops it on the counter. She quickly unbuttons her jeans and pushes her underwear down right with them. It takes Katya about a minute to come, with one hand leaning against the counter, the other furiously rubbing over her clit. It’s dry enough that it almost hurts, but Katya can’t help it. She knows she’s going to come again later in her bed, and she’s going to take her time then and do it right, imagining Trixie doing the exact same thing.

“Fuck,” she repeats, and slumps down over the counter. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve tried writing a review for Perestroika.”
> 
> All drowsiness falls away from Katya, and she sits up, accidentally pulling on Trixie’s hand. Instead of letting go, she also pushes herself upright again.
> 
> “What do you mean, you’ve tried?”
> 
> "I've started maybe a hundred times, but they were all..." Trixie trails off and then sighs. "Wait, I'll show you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your feedback on the last chapter, it is so so appreciated. Thank you to validation station for being exactly that, and especially to [beanie](https://katiehoughton.tumblr.com/) for betaing this!

The weight of Katya’s phone in her pocket becomes a tether to remind her that all of this is real, that Trixie really came by her apartment, that they ate and laughed together, that they’re both very clear on where they stand with each other. 

They text, a lot. They’ve already set up another date for next week, but in the meantime they have a constant conversation going. Katya is distracted and fidgety all the time now, and even when she doesn’t check her phone for new messages, she still pats herself down in hectic moments, reassuring herself that Trixie is right there, waiting for her. Katya had expected her to maybe only set up the date over text and then possibly call to talk, but Trixie is an avid texter. It makes sense. They’re both busy and don’t have the time to sit down and chat at night, so their conversations happen slowly spread out over the day, whenever they can catch a moment. 

Trixie continues much in the same way she has started, texting Katya from a meeting at the newspaper, saying that she can’t concentrate because she keeps thinking about Katya’s arms kneading the dough and that she’s sure Katya knows how to really fuck a woman. But it’s not all like that. She sends Katya a slightly blurry photo of a graffiti of a Russian nesting doll she spotted from an uber. She tells Katya that her brother and his two boys are going to be in town this weekend and that they’ll stay with her, so Trixie has to buy Pop-Tarts, because her nephews refuse to eat anything else for breakfast. She tells her that there’s a concert she’d like to go to with Katya, but that it’s still five months away, and that they might have grown tired of each other by then. Katya buys two tickets right then and there, despite never having heard of the singer. She doesn’t tell Trixie, not because she thinks she’s right, but because she doesn’t want Trixie to feel like there’s any pressure. 

“So you’re, what? Sexting even though you haven’t even kissed?” Bob asks in a quiet moment in the kitchen, when everybody else is taking their break.

“It’s not sexting, it’s…” Katya’s hands squeeze the air in front of her a few times, as if she’s trying to catch the right words to make sense of what they’re doing. “It’s saying what’s long overdue.”

Bob just looks at her as unimpressed as ever. “Alright, if you say so.” She keeps cleaning spinach in the sink.

It’s fine, Katya doesn’t need Bob to understand. Trixie and her are old enough to cut the crap now. They’ve acknowledged how ridiculous they’ve both been (although Trixie is definitely in the lead), and there is no point in playing coy anymore. They know that they want each other, and the knowledge that she’s going to have sex with Trixie in the near future sits with Katya every second of every day until it’s actually time to see her again. 

This time she doesn’t have the day off before their date, and it helps that she’s at the restaurant instead of going stir-crazy at home. But sitting in her small, windowless office, she can’t concentrate on any of the paperwork she’d been putting off. She never really can, and her excitement certainly doesn’t help. She’s not nervous this time, but she can’t wait to see Trixie again. 

She leaves while dinner prep is in full swing, and she stops by the kitchen to say goodbye and make sure everything is in order. Soju has sped up significantly in the last couple of weeks and Katya has watched her progress with satisfaction. She had expected Dela to get less hectic once she had settled in, but apparently that’s how she always operates. It’s fine, but Katya has a vague feeling that she’s going to set something on fire one of these days. She knows she can always rely on Kameron and Bob to get the job done, but on days like today, when she’s not there, it’s simply a lot of work, and Katya thinks she should probably hire another line cook, take some of the pressure off all of them. She’ll have a look through the applications they have lying around tomorrow.

“We’re all set, boss,” Bob informs her. ‘Now piss off,’ she doesn’t say, would never say in the kitchen with other people around, but Katya still hears it. Bob has been her sous-chef almost as long as she’s had Perestroika, and the stressful environment of the kitchen has forged a trust between them Katya rarely finds with people outside of that world. It’s a very time-consuming job as well, so meeting people outside work is hard. It makes Bob one of her closest friends, especially now that Ginger is running her restaurant in San Francisco for her. 

In private Bob tells her frequently that she’s an idiot for various reasons, but when they’re working, she is always professional, and if anybody dared not treat Katya with the respect she deserves as the chef, Bob would probably rip them a new one before Katya had even heard about it. 

“Right. Don’t text me,” Katya tells her, getting only a grin in response. Katya takes the subway home and changes. Trixie had told her they would be staying in tonight, so Katya doesn’t have to actually dress up, but she still wants to make an effort for Trixie. Her hair has been braided all day and she takes it out, leaving her with loose waves and more volume than she normally has, but it's all towards the ends of her hair and none of it where she actually wants it. Still, it's better than nothing.

Katya has bought lingerie, for the first time in years, and she texted Trixie photos from the dressing room, asking if she should get the red or the black set. ‘Both,’ had been the immediate response, along with a number of expletives. Trixie’s reaction made her feel sexier than the actual lace on her body, and Katya feels her nerve endings hum with anticipation as she slips the red pieces on now. There’s only so much they can do for her small tits and flat ass, but Trixie had clearly expressed how much she looked forward to seeing Katya in it. 

She pulls on a dress made from strips of different fabrics, all the prints clashing with each other, and pairs it with boots that are heavy but so old that the leather is buttery-soft and molded to her feet. She sticks to her basic makeup, and then it’s time to grab her bag, a large shapeless fabric thing. On the way to the door she stops by the fridge, carefully placing the container with two large slices of honey cake on top of the heap of leather straps at the bottom of the bag. Trixie had insisted tonight’s dinner is her treat, but Katya didn’t want to show up empty-handed, and she thought chocolates or flowers were boring. She had texted Trixie yesterday, asking if she should bring something, maybe something that would go with what she had planned, and Trixie’s reply had made her press out an astonished laugh.

**Trixie**

_ Do you have a strap-on? _

_ Actually just a harness would be better. _

That was a fairly straight-forward answer to the question what Trixie had planned.

**Katya**

_ I meant for dinner! _

She had almost called Trixie a dirty animal, but deep down she knew she’d already made a decision, so with a sigh Katya sent another text.

_ Yes, I’ll bring my harness. _

*****

Trixie’s apartment building is a mountain of glass and steel, and Katya’s steps echo as she walks to the elevator in what is more of a lobby than a stairwell. Katya knows that for New York she lives in a really nice apartment, but this is fancy. She’s glad when the elevator doors slide shut behind her. She’d felt watched before, even though there was nobody else around. She’s a little on edge.

As soon as she steps out of the elevator, she sees Trixie leaning in the frame of her open door. She looks happy and relaxed, meeting Katya’s gaze with a wide smile. She’s in white pants, and a very cozy looking soft-pink sweater, her feet only in socks. Trixie’s hair is open, and her fingers are absentmindedly playing with the curled ends. She’s not wearing her glasses today, apparently having opted for contacts, and Katya misses them a little. She’s still possibly the most beautiful she’s ever been, Katya thinks, but she thinks that every time she sees her.

“Hi,” she greets Katya, not doing anything to hide her excitement to see her. Katya returns the greeting with just as much enthusiasm, and Trixie steps back to let Katya in. Her hallway opens into the living room, which offers a breathtaking view over the city from a front of floor-to-ceiling windows. Going by the building, Katya had expected her apartment to be modern and minimalist, but it’s surprisingly cozy. Most of the room is taken up by a large grey couch with its many pillows and blankets. The shaggy pink rug in front of it makes Katya smile. Bookcases line two of the walls, leaving one free for a large stereo with a record player. Her records are arranged around it, most on shelves, but some obviously displayed for their art work. It’s elegant but inviting, and it suits Trixie perfectly. Katya tells her that and gets a grin back.

“Make yourself at home!” Trixie gestures to the couch. “I’m gonna get us drinks.”

“Oh! I brought dessert.” 

“Yes, I asked you to,” Trixie points out with raised brows, and Katya snorts.

“No, I mean actual dessert!” She pulls the container out of her bag. She had to carefully balance it on her knees on the subway here, and through the slightly milky plastic it looks like the cake is still unharmed. “It’s a new recipe I’m testing, I’d like to hear what you think.”

Trixie takes it almost with reverence and nods. “Right, shall I put it in the fridge?”

At Katya’s nod she takes it into an adjoining room that must be the kitchen. In the meantime Katya sits down on the couch. It’s so big that she can’t lean against the backrest without pulling her legs all the way up on the cushions. To not get dirt on Trixie’s nice couch, she discards her boots next to the rug and then scoots back until she can lean against the backrest. She feels like a toddler with her legs up like this, and the thought makes her giggle. Then she thinks that this sofa is easily big enough for the both of them to lie down side by side, and her thoughts take off without consulting her, painting pictures of all the things they could do. 

“Shall I leave you alone with my couch?” Trixie pulls her back to reality. She regards her with a lopsided smile, and in each hand she has a bottle of beer.

“I hope this is alright? It goes well with the food.” She sets the bottles down on the couch table and folds herself down next to Katya, looking perfectly comfortable.

Katya can’t detect any food smells in the air. “So what are you making?”

“Oh, I’m not making anything, I ordered in. I prefer to have others cook for me,” Trixie explains casually.

Katya grins. “Yes, I got that.”

“Why shouldn’t I let people do it who are much better at it?”

“No, you’re right,” Katya agrees. “I make a living off being better at cooking than other people.”

Trixie looks pleased with Katya’s reply, and she opens her mouth to say something, but the buzzer for the door sounds, and she pushes herself up to answer it. From the sofa Katya watches as she impatiently shifts her weight from one foot to the other at her spot by the open door. Then she greets the delivery man cheerfully and he returns it. It sounds like they know each other. She comes back with two large paper bags, heading straight for the coffee table. 

“It’s takeout, you’re supposed to eat it on the couch,” she explains, setting the bags down and starting to lift the containers of food out of them. Katya recognizes the logo on the boxes, it’s an Indian place she’s been to herself after she read Trixie’s glowing review of it.

“Jesus, who’s supposed to eat all this?” Katya mutters when more and more food is spread out on the table. 

“I only ordered half of it, they always give me plenty extra, since they had to move to a bigger location after my review,” Trixie explains with a grin and a shrug. Once she has set everything out, she gets plates and silverware from the kitchen, and they start tasting their way through all the different boxes. 

Watching Trixie eat is a joy. Whenever she puts something especially good into her mouth, her eyes close, and Katya can watch her savour the bite as much as possible. Trixie is not one to restrain herself; that goes for her appreciation as much as for her disdain. Katya likes that about her, Trixie is genuine and she has a love for food that might even be bigger than Katya’s. 

They don’t make it through even nearly all of the food, both of them giving up at some point and leaning back on the couch. Katya had still dragged her finger through the curry on her plate and is now sucking it off, feeling Trixie’s eyes on her. It’s almost cold by now, but the mix of spices produces its own heat. 

“We haven’t eaten your cake yet,” Trixie remarks with a frown.

Katya snorts. “Right, I don’t know about you, but I can’t eat one more bite.”

“Me neither.” With obvious effort Trixie turns onto her side. “You’ll have to stay until I can eat again.”

Katya smiles at her. “Okay.” 

She turns as well, so they’re facing each other half sitting, half lying. In between them Trixie’s hand keeps moving over the fabric of the couch, brushing it into one direction and making the material look darker, and then stroking back again, so it melts into the rest of the cushions again. Katya loses herself in the back and forth of her fingers, until she intercepts Trixie’s hand with her own. Trixie quickly intertwines their fingers. Her skin is hot against Katya’s, and she’s sure her own palm is sweaty, but Trixie doesn’t seem to mind. They don’t talk, just lie close to each other until Katya feels ready to doze off. 

“I’ve tried, you know.” Trixie’s voice reaches Katya like it’s filtering through cotton candy, soft, sweet, and sticking to Katya’s skin.

“Hm?” 

“I’ve tried writing a review for Perestroika.”

All drowsiness falls away from Katya, and she sits up, accidentally pulling on Trixie’s hand. Instead of letting go, she also pushes herself upright again.

“What do you mean, you’ve tried?”

"I've started maybe a hundred times, but they were all..." Trixie trails off and then sighs. "Wait, I'll show you." She squeezes Katya's hand before letting go, getting up and disappearing into another room. Through the open door Katya can see the corner of her bed.

Katya had expected Trixie to come back out with her laptop, but instead she is carrying a shoebox. She places it next to Katya on the couch and takes the lid off, and then sits back down without saying a word. The box is filled - not to the brim, but the bottom is covered in a decent layer - with scraps of paper. Receipts, napkins, the ripped off corners from newspapers, and all of them with Trixie’s loopy but even handwriting on them. Katya randomly picks one from the top.

_ ‘Everything she does, she does with intent. Zamolodchikova doesn’t just make food, she feeds people,'  _ it reads, and Katya keeps staring at it for a moment. 

"They're all the things I've tried to include and make into a coherent review over the years," Trixie explains quietly, like she doesn't want anybody to overhear, even though they're alone.

Katya gently sets down the slip of paper next to the box, and picks up another one. She can feel Trixie's gaze prickling on her skin.

_ ‘Zamolodchikova’s cooking is a masterclass in authenticity.’ _

That's the second time already that Trixie has written out her whole last name. Usually people simply stick with Zamo, but not Trixie.

"I don't… I don't know what to say," Katya admits. She takes the next one.

_ ‘She is the only person who has ever looked hot in chef whites.’ _

Katya laughs at that one and Trixie leans over to see what it says.

"Oh, yes. I stand by that."

Katya snorts, but reads the next one out loud.

" _ ‘Is it unreasonable to ask someone to marry you just so they can make you dumplings for the rest of your life?’  _ Yes, it is!"

Trixie only shrugs.

_ ‘She grew out her hair since the last time I saw her, and it makes the grey in it more obvious. It suits her. Everything suits her.’  _ It makes Katya grab her own hair instinctively and tug on the greying strands. She hadn’t expected Trixie to write nearly as much about her as she’s written about Katya’s food. It’s obvious she has a weak spot for both.

_ ‘The food at Perestroika reminds me of my childhood in the motherland, when I would come home to my babushka pottering around in the kitchen, and warm myself in front of the hearth after being out in the unforgiving winds of the tundra all day. And I’m from Wisconsin.’  _ That one is equally flattering and dumb.

One only reads _‘How?’_, making her laugh a little, and then the next tugs on Katya’s heart with _‘Every time I see her and in every photo she seems to be laughing. Whatever it is that’s making her so happy, I’m glad she has it.’_

_ ‘I’ve never heard anybody whose opinion I value say one bad word about Katya Zamolodchikova. She treats her staff well, she works hard, she’s dedicated her life to her craft. If she was a man and not openly gay, she would have at least one Michelin star and probably her own TV show.’ _

Katya puts that one on the little pile she’s made next to the box. She hasn’t gone through nearly all of them, but warmth has started spreading out from her chest into her face and fingertips, and she can no longer just sit there. Trixie has been quiet this whole time, watching her read with nervousness written on her face. Now, Katya moves the box and the pile of paper scraps from in between them to her other side, and she turns to face Trixie.

“Can I please kiss you now?”

Trixie’s face splits into a relieved smile, and she scrambles up on her knees and then closer to Katya, draping herself across Katya’s lap, arms coming up around her neck. Katya has to put her arms around Trixie’s waist to keep her from falling off. 

“I’ll riot if you don’t,” Trixie still says, but doesn’t give Katya a chance to reply, she’s already pressing her lips to Katya’s. She’s soft and tastes like curry, and Katya sighs into their kiss, which Trixie takes as in invitation to gently push her tongue into Katya’s mouth. Katya feels herself clench around nothing at that and she jostles Trixie enough to almost throw her off her lap. She answers by rearranging her legs and straddling Katya instead, and pressing her deeper into the couch. 

Trixie kisses with hunger and determination, but without any haste. She maps out Katya's mouth methodically, pressing their bodies tightly together. She's warm and solid beneath Katya's hands that move slowly from her waist to her hips, and then grab her thick thighs. In turn, Trixie cups Katya’s face in both her hands and then pulls back, leaving both of them panting. 

“I needed everyone-- I needed  _ you _ to understand how good you are,” Trixie whispers. “And nothing I wrote came even close to that. All this time I’ve been trying to do you justice, and I couldn't. It doesn’t help that half the time I lose track of what I’m doing and end up writing about how hot you are,” she explains very seriously, and Katya can barely contain her smile.

“And here I thought you didn’t care for me and my food.”

“Oh, no no no!” Trixie briefly presses her lips to Katya’s again. “I never wanted that, I’m sorry.”

Katya grins. It’s easy to do, now that she knows what she knows. “You can make it up to me.”

“Yeah?” Trixie threads her fingers through Katya’s hair, her nails lightly dragging across her scalp. “Do you have something specific in mind?”

“Oh, several things,” Katya assures her, pulls Trixie even closer by her ass, and their smiling mouths meet again. Any talk of reviews is quickly forgotten when Trixie starts rolling her hips into Katya, huffing out little sighs while Katya keeps squeezing the ample flesh of her thighs. Her hands wander to her ass, and then stroke upwards and underneath her sweater. There Katya encounters the hot skin of her back without any other fabric in between them. That is what makes her aware that all of this is real, that she has Trixie Mattel in her lap, and if she doesn’t do something terribly wrong now, she can have her in her bed, too. 

Katya carefully starts pulling the pink sweater up, and they both pull back from their kiss, Trixie so she can help, and Katya so she can watch Trixie’s skin being revealed millimeter by millimeter. Trixie gets impatient and pulls it up and over her head quickly, shaking out her hair and leaning back a little, showing off for Katya. Gently Katya slides her hands up her stomach and lets them sit on her ribs, just below the edge of Trixie’s bra that of course matches her sweater in color.

“The first time I saw a picture of you with those, I completely lost it.”

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” Trixie looks so pleased with herself as she looks first down at her tits and then at Katya.

“They’re the loveliest,” Katya murmurs. She slides her hands up so they’re resting on the pink lace.

“You haven’t even seen all of them.” Trixie quickly unclasps the bra and shrugs out of the straps, pulling it all the way off, Katya’s hands falling down with it, and discarding it carelessly on the couch. Her breasts only slightly drop without the support, in a way that only fake tits of that size can, especially at their age. They’re big, but perfectly proportioned to the rest of her body. 

“The loveliest,” Katya repeats, and she leans forward so she can take one nipple into her mouth. She worries it between her teeth lightly, and above her Trixie keens, before grabbing Katya’s head and cradling it, gently but insistently, against her chest. Katya happily obliges and gives her other nipple the same treatment. The whole time Trixie’s hips keep pressing into her, and Katya blindly opens the button of her pants. 

“Just so you know,” Trixie pulls back, “I don’t have a dick.”

Katya blinks a few times. “Okay.”

“I’m saying this because others have been disappointed before.” Trixie sounds matter-of-fact, but Katya doesn't miss the nervousness in her eyes, and she captures Trixie’s lips in a slow kiss.

“I would have happily sucked your dick, but that’s not what this is about,” she says when they break apart.

Trixie smiles down at her. “I had a huge dick.” She bites her lip and her hand comes up to cup Katya’s jaw, her chin resting between her thumb and forefinger. “I would have liked to see you try fitting all of it in your mouth.”

At her words Katya’s mouth drops open by itself, and Trixie laughs at her. She bends down and hungrily kisses Katya again, but then climbs off her lap and lies down on the sofa, so she can take her pants off. As soon as Katya gets what she’s doing, she helps and pulls them over Trixie’s feet and her socks right along with them, leaving her lying propped up on her elbows, and in only a pair of high-waisted briefs in a deeper shade of pink than her bra. It’s not a matching set, but Trixie has clearly picked them to go together. Katya longs to put her mouth just above the lace edging where her pants have left red indents on her belly, but Trixie tugs on the hem of her dress.

“Take this off right now.”

Katya grins down at her from where she is kneeling. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s hideous, I love it, now take it off!” she demands, sounding breathless, and Katya unceremoniously pulls the dress over her head, dropping it off the couch. She leans forward, trying to crawl over Trixie, but she stops her.

“No, stay there. I want to look at you.”

Katya exhales a little laugh, and stays kneeling and upright, feeling Trixie’s eyes roaming over her skin as if they were her hands. But all she does is look, no sound leaving her lips other than her heavy breathing.

“Okay,” Trixie says when she has looked her fill. “Now touch me.”

Katya descends upon her with a giggle, one hand coming around Trixie’s back to press their chests together, and she can feel Trixie’s breasts against her own through the thin material of her bra. In turn, Trixie’s hands go straight to her ass and squeeze. As their mouths find each other again, and Katya can feel Trixie’s tongue hot against her own, she wiggles one hand between their bodies and slides it over Trixie’s panties with barely any pressure. Trixie gasps into her mouth and presses her hips up. Katya keeps her hand where it is, just holding it, and Trixie starts rutting against it. Only when she starts whining does Katya take pity on her, and she presses down harder as she rubs her hand up and down. Trixie grunts and slips her hands beneath Katya’s underwear, digging her nails into Katya’s ass, just short of painful. She protests with a whine when Katya tries to sit up and pulls her hands away from Trixie.

“Do you want me to take these off or not?” Katya asks with a smile, and lightly pulls on the waistband of Trixie’s underwear, letting them snap back into place. 

“Mh-hmm,” Trixie hums, biting her lip, and eagerly lifting her hips when Katya starts pulling her panties down. They land somewhere on the floor, and Trixie spreads her legs, making room for Katya to kneel in between them. Katya can’t help but immediately zero in on her pussy. The labia is small and symmetrical, and Trixie’s neatly trimmed brown pubes are a stark contrast to how pink she is.

“That’s a very pretty pussy,” Katya tells Trixie with a grin.

“Thanks, I picked it out myself.” 

They both giggle, and with her thumb gently stroking over her vulva, Katya leans down to kiss Trixie. She doesn’t linger for long, determined to show Trixie exactly how enthusiastic she is about her pussy. Katya trails kisses down her body, making sure to give each of her breasts the same amount of attention, before moving on and kissing down over her belly. She settles in between Trixie’s thighs, turning her head from one side to the other to kiss them both. Trixie grows impatient and she keeps lifting her hips a little, as if to remind Katya what she’s there to do. Katya finally obliges, but all she does is pressed closed-mouthed kisses over her labia. 

Trixie starts whining again, and Katya places one hand flat on her thick mound, and gently but firmly pushes up. It exposes Trixie’s clit more, and with her other hand Katya starts gently rubbing left and right of it. It makes Trixie’s whines go up in pitch, even more when Katya presses her fingers together more tightly. Katya then lowers her mouth, pushing her tongue against Trixie’s clit. She had been meaning to go slow and gentle to figure out what Trixie likes, but Trixie has other ideas. She cradles Katya’s head in both her hands and pulls with surprising strength, mashing Katya’s face into her pussy, and it makes Katya moan against her clit. 

She’s not here to deny Trixie, so instead of the gentle movement of her tongue, she starts sucking, and when Katya pushes one finger into her, one of Trixie’s hands lets go of Katya’s head and smacks down on the couch.

“Yes!” she hisses, drawing out the s, and it encourages Katya to add a second finger. She starts fucking Trixie steadily while keeping her mouth closed around her and sucking on her clit. At some point Katya has to take a break, to get enough air into her lungs and to relax her jaw for a moment, and still with every thrust of her hand a little  _ uh _ falls from Trixie’s mouth while she shakily pats Katya’s face. When Katya closes her lips around her clit again, she keens. 

Beneath her, Trixie’s whole body seems to fidget, her hands fluttering all over the place, until she tenses up, once again holding Katya’s head in place until she’s done, a guttural groan ripping itself from her throat, and Katya can feel herself clench at the sound. 

Trixie still has her eyes closed and is breathing heavily when Katya pushes herself up and crawls over Trixie so she can kiss her. Trixie’s mouth is soft and slack against Katya’s much more insistent one. 

“Please, Trixie, I need to come,” Katya huffs out, already undoing her bra and pulling it off with shaky fingers. Trixie finally opens her eyes and looks at her softly before breathing out a tiny laugh.

“I can’t move, you’ll have to ride my face.”

Their laughing mouths meet in a brief kiss while Katya hastily pulls her underwear off. Carefully she climbs over Trixie’s face, arranging her legs and making sure she’s not kneeling on Trixie’s hair. Trixie looks up at Katya from between her legs, still a little bleary-eyed, but as soon as Katya lowers herself, she enthusiastically licks into her, and the sight of that is nearly enough to make Katya come. She doesn’t hold back, and grinds against Trixie’s face as relentlessly as Trixie had pulled her close earlier. Trixie has her eyes closed and keeps gently humming, Katya feeling the vibrations travel from her center into her fingertips. Then Trixie opens her eyes, impossibly large and dark, and Katya can't look away. At the same time Trixie’s hand starts blindly groping around until it hits Katya’s hand, and only then does Katya realize what she’s trying to do. She quickly intertwines their fingers. Trixie hums and at the same time squeezes Katya’s hand, and just like that she’s coming, still staring into Trixie’s eyes and with her name on her lips.

Katya lets herself fall to the side, and immediately Trixie starts rearranging their limbs so she can comfortably rest her head on Katya’s shoulder, and Katya has to barely move to press a kiss to her forehead. Trixie reaches up above their heads and pulls a folded up blanket over them. Katya already feels like she’s overheating, but she lets Trixie fuss with it until they’re covered up completely, and then she hangs one leg off the side of the couch. 

The sun has set all the way and the living room is only illuminated by a floor lamp, casting golden light over them. It seems to melt into Trixie’s hair.

“What are you looking at?” Trixie asks gently.

“You.”

Trixie hums, somewhere between satisfaction and falling asleep. “I am very nice to look at.”

Katya smiles and cups Trixie’s jaw to tilt her face up, so she can kiss her. They stay like this for a long time, holding each other, only the sound of their even breathing filling the room, and Katya feels herself drifting on the brink of falling asleep, until Trixie lightly slaps her arm.

“What?”

“We didn’t even use the strap-on,” she points out, looking a little peeved, and Katya pulls her closer to her side.

“That’s alright, there’s always next time. I’ll leave it with you for safekeeping.”

Trixie frowns at that. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Oh God, no. Never.” She scoots down a little, so she can cradle Trixie’s face in both her hands, and kisses her languidly, a little flame lighting itself in her belly. “Never.”

The furthest either of them moves for the rest of the day is to the bathroom, that holds a truly astounding number of beauty products, and then to Trixie’s bed. They cuddle up beneath the covers, Trixie in a soft cotton nightgown that has its work cut out trying to hold Trixie’s tits in, and Katya still nude. She had asked Trixie if that bothered her, and in response she had blown a raspberry on Katya’s belly, making her flail with silent laughter. It’s still too early for Katya to sleep, she is used to staying up until well after midnight when she’s working the dinner service, so they keep talking until Trixie drifts off. 

She keeps making little huffing noises in her sleep like a bunny, and Katya softly strokes her hair, wondering what she’s dreaming of. Whatever it is, it doesn’t seem to be unpleasant. Trixie’s face stays soft and relaxed in the darkness, and it’s the last thing Katya sees before she falls asleep as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Trixie! Are we girlfriends?” she asks as soon as Trixie picks up, and in reply she gets a laugh that quickly turns into a cough. “Oh no, I’m sorry!” Katya waits for Trixie to finish coughing, worrying her lip between her teeth.
> 
> “Oh my God,” Trixie mutters when her fit is over. “Are you twelve? Do you wanna change your relationship status on Facebook?”
> 
> Katya grins. She had hoped to get a laugh out of Trixie by asking this in the dumbest way possible. “Well? Are we?” she doubles down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love this fic is getting! I'm so grateful to all of you, but especially my validation station ladies, you're all angels. Thank you [beanie](https://katiehoughton.tumblr.com/) for whipping this into shape for me.

Katya awakens to something tickling her nose. Still half asleep, she tries to bat it away but it comes back every time. After a while she grumbles and opens her eyes to Trixie's grinning face right above hers. She’s holding a strand of Katya's hair and she brushes it against Katya's nose one more time before letting go.

"Good morning." She's propped up on one elbow, her other hand on top of the covers, lying just below Katya's breasts, and the weight of it stretches over Katya like a blanket, anchoring her in Trixie's bed.

"Morning," Katya mutters, voice rough with sleep.

"It's almost 9 o'clock, and I thought you might have to go to work at some point."

Katya blinks a few times. She hasn't slept until 9 in a long time, even when she's been at the restaurant into the early hours of the morning.

"I only have to go in this afternoon." She yawns. "What about you?"

"I texted my assistant that I'll get in at noon."

"Can you do that?"

Trixie shrugs. "I'm doing it, Max will cover for me."

Katya stretches, a smile spreading on her face as the sheets slip down a little, only stopped by Trixie’s hand. “So what are we gonna do with our free morning?”

“Eat cake in bed,” Trixie replies with a grin, and gets up. 

Katya watches her swaying hips in her nightgown as she leaves the room, and then sits up with another yawn. Cold air hits her naked torso, and Katya wraps the sheet around her like a cape as she stands up and follows Trixie. The door to the kitchen is open and Katya shuffles in, seeing Trixie filling water into her coffee maker and shifting from foot to foot on the cold tiles. From behind, Katya leans against her, her cheek resting between Trixie’s shoulder blades. 

She feels the vibrations when Trixie asks, “You okay back there?” with amusement evident in her voice.

“Great, just sleepy.”

“Then go back to bed. Coffee will be ready soon.”

Katya only hums and stays where she is. She’d rather be chilly and standing up but leaning on Trixie than in bed by herself. Trixie doesn’t say anything, but snorts when she tries walking to the fridge with Katya awkwardly hanging off her. Katya only lets go when Trixie doesn’t want to plate the cake Katya brought, afraid it’ll topple over. 

Trixie leaves her to deal with it, and Katya ties she sheet around her body like a towel, carefully placing a slice each on the plates Trixie has handed her. She uses the opportunity to look around the kitchen. It’s fairly small and very tidy, but not in the way Katya keeps hers tidy, it’s the clinical tidiness of disuse. Trixie was not kidding when she said she preferred to have others cook for her. It suits Katya perfectly, since she prefers cooking for others. 

The coffee machine sputters out the last few drops, having filled the air with a rich aroma, and Katya grabs milk from the fridge. She drinks it black, but Katya knows that Trixie likes hers with milk, she has a vague memory of her mentioning that in a review once. She still asks loudly if Trixie wants milk in hers, so she doesn’t look like a stalker.

“Yes, please,” Trixie calls from the living room, sounding a little strained, and when Katya comes out of the kitchen with both their mugs, Trixie is kneeling in front of the couch, reaching for something underneath it. Next to her on the floor she has the shoebox with all of her thoughts about Katya, and she emerges successfully from underneath the couch with another one in hand. It must have fallen down yesterday without either of them noticing. They had more important things on their minds at the time. Katya drifts closer and tries to get a look at the pieces of paper Trixie has apparently picked up, but she quickly swipes them into the box and pushes the lid on. 

“I’ve already embarrassed myself enough, this is going back in my closet,” she sternly tells Katya, and she gets up with some effort, Katya unable to lend a hand, since she’s holding the coffee. Trixie leads the way into the bedroom, where she shoves the box in the corner at the bottom of her closet where it’s surrounded by a multitude of heels.

“I’ll get the cake,” she insists when Katya has set their coffee cups down, and Katya climbs back into bed and rearranges the pillows so they can comfortably sit leaning against the headboard.

When she takes the first bite of her honey cake, Trixie moans around the dessert spoon and grabs Katya’s arm. 

“So I take it you like it?” Katya takes a bite herself. The layers of pastry are flaky and crisp, contrasting the rich, sweet cream between them. It could do with a little less sugar, Katya thinks, but the honey comes through nicely, and all in all she’s pleased. Katya isn’t usually that into desserts, especially any kind of pastry making she usually lacks the patience for. She had stumbled over the recipe in one of her old books and decided it could do with a few updates, so she had tried it on a whim. Making it was probably too time consuming to put it on the menu permanently, but it would make a nice special occasionally.

Trixie doesn’t reply, but she leans over and kisses Katya, who has to hold on to her plate and internally bemoans that she can’t just grab Trixie and haul her into her lap. Trixie pulls back and looks at Katya with a dreamy expression, fluttering her lashes, and Katya loses any interest in cake. Trixie, however, focuses on her own plate again, savouring the next bite just as much as the first. All Katya can do is shift, so they’re touching from their shoulders down to their knees while they eat. 

After she’s finished her coffee, Katya is ready to either get up and do things or try out new ways to take Trixie apart, but Trixie finishes what they’re passing off as breakfast, and then slides down in the bed, settling her head in Katya's lap, curled up like a cat. To give her restless fingers something to do, Katya starts putting little braids in Trixie's hair, and Trixie hums contentedly. They murmur back and forth about nothing in particular, a hushed conversation with Trixie almost asleep, and it forces Katya to hold still, but she doesn’t mind. They only get up when the alarm on Trixie’s phone goes off and she has to get ready for work, and even then they take their time saying goodbye, kissing languidly by the door before Katya leaves in her clothes from last night.

Katya has to fly to San Francisco for a few days and take care of some things at her restaurant there, so they’re not going to see each other for a week. A week doesn’t seem like a lot, but all of Katya’s thoughts constantly circle around Trixie, and the second she steps out of the apartment building, she’s counting down to the next time she gets to kiss her. 

*

“What do you think?”

“Hm?” Katya looks up at Ginger from the laptop she’s balancing on her knees. “About what?”

Ginger sighs and even though she has to look up at Katya, she feels small under Ginger’s unimpressed gaze.

“About the menu changes we’ve been discussing for the past half hour.”

“Sorry, sorry! Yes, that’ll work.” Katya rubs the back of her neck with one hand and suppresses a yawn. Last night she had worked the dinner service. By the time she got back to her hotel, it was around 2am, but Trixie on the east coast had still been awake, and she had texted, asking if she could call. So Katya had laid in bed in the dark, phone pressed to her ear, and listened to Trixie answering with her voice rough.

She was getting a cold and needed somebody to feel sorry for her, so Katya murmured her pity through the phone, asking if Trixie was drinking enough water and getting some rest. Katya doesn’t know how late it was by the time they hung up, but when she jolted awake with her alarm blaring a few hours later, she knew it had been too late. 

Ginger looks her over from behind the desk in the manager’s office that they’re sharing for this week. 

“I don’t wanna know what you and your girlfriend have been doing, but I don’t think you should do the dinner service tonight.”

Instinctively Katya wants to disagree, insist that she can do it, but she realizes she doesn’t have to. Yesterday had taken more out of her than the service at home does, since she’s working with an entirely different team. Ginger’s kitchen staff is a well-oiled machine, but Katya isn’t that familiar with them so she had to be more alert than she has to be at Perestroika. She’s happy letting Ginger run everything every other day of the year, today doesn’t have to be different, so she agrees to go back to her hotel once she’s done with everything else. Only then does she register what else Ginger said, and Katya shuts her laptop so suddenly that Ginger jumps a little.

“Do you think she’s my girlfriend?” she asks, leaning forward and staring at Ginger.

She snorts in response. “How would I know? That sounds like a conversation you have to have with her. You definitely act like she’s your girlfriend, though.”

“Huh.” Katya leans back in her chair. She hadn’t thought about what exactly they were, it hadn’t really seemed to matter. But now she’s not so sure. It’s still very early into their relationship, whatever relationship that might be, and Katya knows they have plenty of time to figure that out, but she also knows that they’re not exactly doing this by the book. Technically, they’ve only been on two dates, but they’ve skipped all the small talk and the figuring out if they were into each other because they had already known.

“Right, I gotta change and do prep.” Ginger pushes herself up from her chair. “Let me know when you’re done here and we’ll make you some dinner.”

Katya only nods and throws herself into the work she needs to finish. The earlier she’s done, the earlier she gets to call Trixie. 

*

“Trixie! Are we girlfriends?” she asks as soon as Trixie picks up, and in reply she gets a laugh that quickly turns into a cough. “Oh no, I’m sorry!” Katya waits for Trixie to finish coughing, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“Oh my God,” Trixie mutters when her fit is over. “Are you twelve? Do you wanna change your relationship status on Facebook?”

Katya grins. She had hoped to get a laugh out of Trixie by asking this in the dumbest way possible. “Well? Are we?” she doubles down.

“Yes, you psychopath! God.” Trixie sounds like she’s smiling.

“Okay, good." With that Katya is satisfied. She hadn't been worried about what Trixie would say: she knows they're okay, no matter what they call their new relationship. It's still nice to have it put in such definitive terms. "How are you feeling?”

“I’m bored and lonely, but Kim says I’m not allowed to go back to work." Immediately her tone swings to petulant, and Katya thinks that’s an improvement from yesterday’s misery.

“Do you still have a fever?”

“Maybe,” Trixie mumbles, and Katya laughs. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow and I’ll entertain you then,” she promises.

“Good. When do you land?”

"Around five."

"Can you come straight here?" Trixie's voice gets whiny in a way Katya couldn't stand with anybody else, but finds utterly charming coming from Trixie.

"I'll go home, drop off my suitcase, and pick up some stuff so I can stay the night at yours, how does that sound?" she offers instead.

"Like a good deal." Trixie sniffles a little and then yawns, and Katya catches it. It's only nine o'clock but they're both clearly done for the day. The pauses in between sentences get longer and longer and they finally decide to hang up and go to bed. 

Just before they do, Trixie whispers, "I can't wait for you to come home," and Katya is pretty sure she means 'I can't wait for you to come back to me.' 

*

It's Kim who opens the door for her the next day, and Katya greets her happily. They haven't seen each other since _ before _ . The last time they spoke was when Katya begged her to deliver her message to Trixie, without even being certain it _ was _ Trixie.

"Oh, good, you're here. I have to go, because I have somewhere to be, and because she's driving me crazy," Kim explains in a flat voice. Then she yells into the apartment, "Katya is here, I'm leaving." The only reply is a vague noise of acknowledgement, but Kim is already grabbing her bag.

"Her majesty is in the bedroom, please keep her busy until she's recovered. And," she preemptively cuts Katya off, "I don't need to know anything about how you're gonna keep her busy."

"Alright, you got it," Katya agrees with a grin. Kim is already halfway out the door. "Bye, Kim."

"Bye. I'm glad you're here, by the way," she says and then pulls the door closed behind her. Once she's left alone, Katya toes off her boots and sets her backpack down by the door. She takes the other bag she's still carrying into the kitchen and puts away the things she brought.

"What are you doing? Come here!" Trixie's voice, still rough from her cold, demands from the other end of the apartment.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Katya snorts when she steps into the bedroom. Kim had not exaggerated when she called Trixie 'her majesty.' She's propped up against the headboard with everything she could possibly need spread out around her: a box of tissues, a water bottle, her laptop, her phone, a packet of cookies. In the middle of it sits Trixie like a queen granting audience, the effect not diminished by her greasy hair or her Barbie pajamas.

"How are you, princess?" Katya leans one knee on the bed so she can reach her, and she kisses Trixie's forehead. It's hot against her lips.

"Better, but still not great. What took you so long?" Trixie doesn't let her go, instead pulling Katya forward so she has to climb onto the bed completely.

"I told you, I had to stop on the way and get some stuff. I brought frozen pelmeni and chicken soup I had Bob make, which one do you want to eat now and which tomorrow?"

Trixie makes a little high-pitched noise, just short of a whimper, and keeps pulling Katya against her so she's awkwardly hovering above Trixie, holding herself up with her hands against the headboard left and right of Trixie's shoulders and her knees around her thighs.

"I wanna eat _ you _," Trixie whines, and Katya stifles her laugh against Trixie's lips.

"No, seriously, what do you want?"

Trixie rolls her eyes at Katya. "I want you to call me princess again and then fuck me with your strap-on, _ seriously _."

"Chicken soup it is." With some effort Katya pushes herself up, but before she can get off the bed completely, Trixie captures her hand in her own.

"I missed you." Her voice is so soft all of a sudden, and Katya brings their joined hands up to her mouth, brushing her lips against Trixie's knuckles, before letting go to heat up the chicken soup.

Once Trixie is eating it, the bowl on a tray on her lap, she doesn't complain anymore. They've pushed everything on the bed to the side so Katya could settle in next to her. She ate on the plane, so now she's just watching Trixie eat, which she does with her usual enthusiasm, and she tells Katya to thank Bob from her. Afterwards Katya clears the dishes, takes off her jeans and climbs under the covers with Trixie. She immediately throws one arm around Katya's middle and settles her head on her shoulder. 

Katya is almost certain she's asleep, but then Trixie quietly asks, "Is it weird that this is not weird?"

"Hm? How do you mean?" She awkwardly peers down at Trixie, and Trixie turns her head so they can look at each other.

"I mean we've been on two dates, and we've already decided we're in a relationship. That's a lot happening very quickly."

"Are you worried it's too quickly?" Katya asks, choosing her words carefully.

Trixie pushes herself up on one hand so she can more easily look at Katya's face. "No, not at all! But that's the point, I've never been so comfortable so fast into a relationship."

"I get that, me neither. But this didn't exactly start like any other relationship I've been in."

Trixie smiles. "That's true." She lies back down, her head a warm, grounding weight on Katya's shoulder. "Tell me about your other relationships?"

Katya blinks a few times, and in her head sorts out where to start.

"Right, the last serious girlfriend I had was Alaska. We broke up two years ago, after dating for four."

"What happened?" 

"She got a job in LA, and we liked each other, but we knew it was not enough that I would uproot my life here and follow her. We never even got to the point of considering moving in together. Before she got the job offer, she was flying back and forth a lot, so we didn't see a lot of each other anyway, and it didn't bother us all that much. So we decided to call it quits, with no hard feelings on either side. We still text occasionally," Katya explains. She hasn't thought about Alaska in a while. With a smile she carries on, "I should text her and tell her about us. She'll be tickled pink I managed to finally get you in the sack." Trixie laughs a little. "She always thought it was cute that I had a crush on you, and we had an agreement that if the chance ever arose, I was allowed to sleep with you."

"Oh wow, that's so gracious of her," Trixie mutters, sounding amused.

"She was definitely hoping for a threesome, it was not an act of selflessness."

Trixie snorts. "Well, she was hot, I wouldn't have said no."

Katya blinks in surprise. "You've seen her?" 

"I told you, I've been keeping track of you online."

"Stalker." Katya presses her lips to Trixie's hair, and Trixie hums.

"And since then?"

"A few hook-ups, before Alaska too. I was too busy and didn't care enough for an actual relationship. I was a slut when I was in culinary school, and picked up all the girls who wanted to experiment."

"Good for you." Katya can hear the grin in Trixie's voice.

"Yeah, well, none of them knew what they were doing, so they definitely got more out of it than I did." It's true, but Katya still thinks very fondly of those days. "What about you?" she then asks.

"My last girlfriend was not a fan of me being a fan of you. She wasn't jealous, but she said it wasn't like me to be so secretive and weird. And then she found _ the box _and ended it shortly after. She didn't say it was because of that, but it was definitely a factor."

"I'm… sorry?" Katya offers tentatively, feeling somewhat responsible even though she knows that's not true.

"No, she was right. It _ was _ weird and secretive and not like me. I just didn't know what to do with myself and the feelings I had for you."

Katya feels like the air got knocked out of her. Yes, they're dating, but it's still new and unexpected to have Trixie frankly acknowledge that she has feelings for Katya, and has had them for a very long time. Trixie carries on like nothing has happened.

"I had a girlfriend when I had my bottom surgery. Before that she had asked me to reconsider, saying it was a risk I didn't have to take, and she never really understood that I _ did _ have to, for reasons she never considered valid. Recovery from the surgery was hard and took a long time and she did not last that period." Trixie says all of that into Katya's chest very matter-of-factly.

"She left you while you were recovering?" Katya asks with fury rising in her towards this unknown woman.

"Oh no, I dumped her. I told her if this was too much for her and she didn't want to support me, I didn't need her around. And she left without an argument."

"I'm sorry. Both that she didn't care more and that you had to go through all that by yourself." Katya's hand gently strokes up and down Trixie's back. She hopes it says 'I'm here no matter what.'

"I wasn't alone, I had a Kim." Katya makes a little noise of surprise, and Trixie explains with a smile in her voice, "Kim moved in with me for three months while I was recovering, and she let me be as big of a baby as I needed to be. She was a lifesaver, and I can never thank her enough for what she's done for me."

"I'm glad you weren't alone." Katya presses her lips to Trixie's hair, then a few dots connect in her brain. "Wait a second, I think I remember that! Kim came by a lot for a few weeks! I asked her why and she said her friend was dealing with some health issues."

Trixie snuggles closer. "Yes, and you wrote me a 'Get well soon' note that I read while eating your food in bed, and I cried," she admits quietly.

"Oh, princess," Katya mutters, and they both try to hold each other closer, but there's no distance to cross anymore.

"It's been eight years, I'm fine," Trixie insists, but she doesn't let go either. "So yeah, that's the relevant relationships, I think. I've mostly been sticking to hook-ups too, for the same reasons as you, but I haven't done that in a while. Some of them were uncomfortably into hooking up with a trans woman, which they understood to mean woman with a dick. Even when that was true, I wouldn't have fucked them."

"Yes, I think that's fairly obvious," Katya says with a grin, and Trixie giggles, for a reason Katya doesn't know. Her fingers start walking up and down Katya's arm.

"I think you owe me," she finally says.

"Do I?" Katya feigns ignorance, since Trixie has made it abundantly clear what she wants.

"I'm breaking up with you if you don't fuck me," she threatens, not very convincingly, and Katya throws her head back and laughs. "Okay, I won't, but please?"

"You're sick, you're supposed to be resting," Katya argues, and Trixie rolls her eyes.

"I'll just be a pillow princess, and lie here and let you do all the work."

Katya catches Trixie's hand in her own where it's lying on top of the covers. "You're very demanding, has anybody ever told you that?"

"Only constantly."

"Good." Lifting their joined hands up to her face, Katya kisses the back of Trixie's hand. "You should be, you deserve it."

Trixie lifts her head, and looks straight at Katya's face. "What?"

"Everything." 

They kiss slowly and deeply, Trixie melting more and more into Katya. Beneath the sheets, Trixie's hands find Katya's naked thighs and start stroking up and down with slow but sure movements. Her skin is hot against Katya's, and she sighs into Trixie's mouth. She hasn't gotten to do this in a week, and it's unreasonable how much she's missed Trixie. She pulls back from their kiss to tell Trixie exactly that, and Trixie climbs on top of her completely. 

Sitting up, Trixie undoes the top buttons of her pajama shirt and pulls it over her head. She's not wearing a bra and a keening sound escapes Katya. Trixie looks so soft and she reaches out, cupping her breasts in both hands. Trixie sighs softly as she does and places her own hands on top of Katya's. With her thumbs, Katya brushes over her nipples, and Trixie's eyes close, her face pulled into a frown in concentration. It's adorable, and Katya keeps touching her gently until Trixie's eyes open again. 

"Your turn." Impatiently, she reaches down and starts pulling up the hem of Katya's shirt, not getting very far since Katya is lying down. As soon as she sits up, Trixie yanks the shirt over Katya's head. For the sake of comfort while flying, she only put on a sports bra, and Trixie wastes no time getting that off either. Then she squeezes roughly at Katya's tits, as if there's more to handle than there actually is. Katya doesn't dislike her small breasts, but she isn't used to them being met with such enthusiasm. 

As if Trixie can hear her thoughts, she breathes, "God, you're so hot." When Katya only gives a non-committal hum, Trixie stares at her face. "You are!" she says with determination. "And you don't even have to do anything for it, you just _ are _. It's very unfair."

Katya snorts, one hand settling on Trixie's waist. "How's that unfair when you are as hot as you are?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I know I am. But it takes a lot of work."

With a smile Katya briefly kisses the spot where Trixie's neck and shoulder meet. "I thought you were hot twenty years ago, and I think you're hot right this second. And you would still be hot if you exclusively dressed in cargo pants and faux fur vests and shaved your head."

"Ugh, that's gross."

"What, cargo pants?"

Trixie grins and winds her arms around Katya's neck. "No, feelings." She closes the gap between them, and hungrily licks into Katya's mouth. Their naked torsos are pressed tightly together, and Katya's hands roam over Trixie's back and down to her ass that's still in pajama pants. She grinds against Katya with a moan that's drowned out by their kiss, and Katya slips her hands underneath the pants and Trixie's underwear, pulling her even closer by her ass. For a while they make out like this, blindly groping at each other, breathless and with slick mouths. After a while Katya grows impatient, and with one arm securely around Trixie's back, she flips them over, laying Trixie out underneath her. Her chest is rising and falling with her heavy breaths, and she's looking up at Katya with joyful anticipation. She doesn't wait for Katya to do it, instead strips off anything she's still wearing herself, and Katya slips her underwear off as well. Then she awkwardly hovers over Trixie while pulling the covers up over her own back and by extension around Trixie, so Trixie doesn't get cold.

"Stop fussing and come here." Trixie's voice is soft, but the demand nonetheless serious, and Katya luxuriates in the feeling of their skin on each other as she lowers herself, only holding herself up with one arm. She feels Trixie's pubes brush her hip and it sends a thrill through her whole body. Katya shifts a little to the side, so she doesn't rest her full weight on Trixie as her hand travels down her body, over her pubes, and sliding it down further. A sigh escapes Trixie as Katya gently brushes over her vulva, and her eyes start to close, but then they abruptly snap open. 

"Don't try to distract me, I'm not gonna let you finger me and be done with it."

Katya laughs, and once again strokes along Trixie's labia. "I wasn't trying to _ distract _ you, it's called foreplay."

"Oh please, we've had about fifteen years of that, I'm over it."

If Trixie is trying to get Katya to actually fuck her, she's going about it the wrong way, because all it does is make Katya laugh harder and a gentle warmth bloom in her chest, different from the sharp one burning in her core.

"I was trying to do this right and be romantic, but fine, have it your way, you monster."

Underneath her, Trixie beams and leans over so she can reach the bedside table. From the top drawer she pulls Katya's harness, a bottle of lube, and a dildo. It's pastel pink and makes no attempt to look like an actual dick with its length getting thicker in some places and the tip curving upwards. Katya quickly slips into the harness, and tightens it around her thighs, so the leather sits securely on her skin but not tight enough to hurt. She can feel Trixie's hungry eyes on her the whole time, and the second she's done, Trixie hands her the dildo to slide into the ring at the front. Katya tugs on it a few times to make sure it's staying in place and Trixie groans. She turns onto her side, one hand grasping Katya's thigh, and then inches her head forward until she can slide the smooth silicone into her mouth, her eyes fluttering closed as she does. 

A rough sound tears itself from Katya's throat at the sight, and she cradles Trixie's head in one hand, while she blissfully sucks her pastel rubber dick. Without meaning to, Katya bucks her hips once, and Trixie makes a muffled, surprised noise, and her eyes open, staring up at Katya. Then she takes the dildo deeper into her mouth, and it must be uncomfortable, but Trixie holds it there for a while before pulling off completely with a gasp, a trail of spit connecting her bottom lip and the tip of the dick.

"Fuck," Katya breathes, and scoots backwards, so she can lean down and kiss Trixie, her mouth welcoming her warm and wet. 

Now it's Katya who can't wait any longer. She grabs the lube and squirts it directly onto the dildo, in her haste dripping some of it onto the sheets. Trixie reaches out and wraps her hand around the silicone, stroking up and down once, twice, to spread the lube. Then her hand disappears between her legs, and she wipes the excess off on her pussy.

"Come on," she breathlessly urges Katya, spreading her legs, and Katya loses no more time, lowering herself over Trixie and lining the dildo up. When she pushes in, she stares at Trixie's face, her mouth wide in an O shape, but no sound leaving her lips. Only when Katya bottoms out, Trixie keens, and grabs Katya's bicep. 

"Does that feel good, baby?" Katya murmurs, and Trixie makes a noise that starts out as a _ yeah _ and ends up as a _ hhhnngggg _ . Slowly, Katya starts rolling her hips into Trixie, and every time she pushes in all the way, Trixie gasps. As she speeds up, Trixie starts a quiet, breathless chant of _ yes yes yes _, her grip on Katya's arm getting tighter.

"Can you come like this?" Katya asks, and Trixie shakes her head no. Katya can't hold herself up, keep pounding into Trixie, and rub her clit at the same time, so she bites out, "Then touch yourself. I wanna see you come."

Trixie whimpers, and the hand she isn't holding onto Katya with sneaks in between their bodies, and Katya can feel it bump rhythmically against her own skin just above where the harness sits. Trixie speeds up and as she does she bites her lip, drowning out her own moans. 

Katya can see her eyes fill with tears, and she slows her hips. "You okay, princess?" she gasps and receives a frantic nod in reply.

"Don't stop! Don't you dare stop," Trixie cries, and Katya speeds up again with a grin, bending down to kiss Trixie. It's uncoordinated and sloppy, and they barely even hit each other's mouths, but Trixie whimpers, and Katya can feel her tears hot and wet against her own cheeks.

"That's it, can you come for me, baby? Can you do it?"

She doesn't reply anything, just stares into Katya's eyes with desperation, her hand frantically moving between them, until finally she gasps Katya's name, her hand goes still, and she's shaking beneath Katya, who forces her hips to stop. Once Trixie has gone slack, Katya carefully pulls out. With trembling fingers she opens the buckles holding the harness on her hips, and the heavy leather, made heavier yet by the dildo that's now glistening with lube and Trixie's wetness, hits the mattress with a thump.

Katya collapses on her side, and her hands come up to cradle Trixie's face. She's stopped crying, but her eyes are still swimming, and she's looking at Katya with her mouth open, her chest rising and falling. Her hand comes up to touch Katya's cheek as well. The only sounds in the room are their heavy breaths that quickly settle in the same rhythm. Trixie pushes her head into Katya's hands like a cat and closes her eyes. It takes mere seconds until she's asleep, Katya is sure of it, and she breathes a little laugh when Trixie starts snoring quietly. With every little shift of her legs, Katya can feel how wet and sensitive she is, and she could easily sneak one hand under the covers and quickly get herself off, but she will wait for Trixie to wake up. Katya doesn't know how long that takes, but it's easily an hour until Trixie's eyes flutter open.

"Oh God, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you." She looks embarrassed, which Katya finds unreasonably endearing. "I know I said I was gonna be a pillow princess, but I'm not gonna leave you hanging."

Katya isn't nearly as desperate anymore, but she lays down on her back and spreads her legs when Trixie gently taps her knee. Trixie settles between them carefully and pulls her hair back over her shoulder. At the first touch of Trixie's tongue, the insistent need in her core is back, and Katya comes shortly after with Trixie's name on her lips and her fingers buried in Trixie's hair. 

Afterwards Trixie looks nearly asleep again, but as she settles her head on Katya's shoulder, she murmurs, "I want to write a book with you."

"A book?" Katya asks, stunned. "What kind of book?"

Trixie snorts, and her breath is hot on Katya's clavicle. "A book about the aftereffects of World War I on the population in rural France. A cookbook, dummy."

Katya grins. "You think I can _ write _?"

"You can just stick to cooking, I'll do the writing."

Katya brushes her lips against Trixie's forehead. "Okay, let's write a cookbook, then," she agrees, but Trixie is already asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love you,” she says, just for the two of them, and Trixie looks at her like she’s hearing it for the very first time.
> 
> “I love you,” Trixie replies and gives Katya another small kiss.
> 
> “I love you,” Katya repeats, and if it wasn’t for the room full of people staring at them, they would simply keep going in that fashion. They have before, the back and forth only ended by Trixie falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is already the end of their story! I know that in terms of word count this is not a big fic, but writing it felt big, and so did hearing what you guys think about it so thank you!
> 
> My ladies! [beanierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanierose/pseuds/beanierose), [mattepinkallshades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattepinkallshades), [JoanneElizabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joanneelizabeth), and [stutter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stutter), without your encouragement, input, excitement and love I never would have written this. I am so grateful to have you in my life and I love you.

Trixie catches Katya's hand in her own and squeezes once so she stops drumming her fingertips on any available surface.

"Sorry! Sorry, I'm nervous."

Trixie just raises her eyebrows at her as if to say 'Oh, really? I had no idea,' and gives her a barely noticeable smile. She is, as always, calm and poised, at least on the surface. Yesterday, they had spent all afternoon in the kitchen, going over what they each had to do today, especially Trixie. The cooking part of this is not what worries Katya, it's the being on camera that she'd rather skip. Trixie on the other hand is a professional when it comes to any type of media, but having to actually  _ do  _ things in the kitchen makes her nervous. She's a perfectionist, Katya knows. Trixie  _ can _ cook, but her standards do not get any lower when she’s the one preparing the food. Since they've moved in together, Trixie has cooked for Katya a handful of times, and every time she served it with a tightness around her mouth that told Katya she wasn't happy with it. It had always been good. Not the best Katya has ever had, but much better than what she's been served in some very expensive restaurants.

Today, they’re supposed to be making a recipe from their book in front of a camera for a food magazine's YouTube channel. Trixie had tried to worm her way out of the active part and maybe just give commentary and drink wine while Katya cooks, which is her favourite pastime these days, but her agent, who is now also Katya’s agent, insisted. They’re promoting the book they wrote together, so they should be making it together. 

Around them, people are busy setting up cameras, lights, and other equipment Katya doesn't know what exactly is good for. They assured them it would only be a few more minutes until they could get started, and Katya was both anxious and relieved at that. Next to her, Trixie opens the little hand mirror she always carries with her, and checks her makeup again. 

"You look perfect," Katya quietly assures her, and Trixie looks from the mirror to Katya with a smile.

"So do you." This morning, before she had started on her own hair and makeup, Trixie had sat Katya down on the toilet in their en-suite bathroom and blow-dried her silvery hair over a large round brush, leaving it voluminous and shiny in a way Katya never could manage. Then Trixie had done Katya's makeup, reminiscent of how Katya usually did it, except more refined. 

When Katya had asked her what she should wear, Trixie had rolled her eyes and said, "You're almost 50, I'm sure you can manage to dress yourself," but then had still told her to wear the plum-colored sweater.

The director informs them they're ready to start, and Trixie and Katya take their places behind the large kitchen island where they are joined by one of the chefs from the magazine, Christina, who is supposed to interview them while they cook. Trixie had shown Katya a few videos with her, so Katya could prepare herself. It helps that she likes her, from the little she's seen. They had chatted a little earlier, Christina telling them to just cook as they usually would (Trixie had snorted at that, her face blank), and that they shouldn’t worry about the cameras and everything else. 

Anxiety crawls up Katya’s spine as soon as they start rolling, Christina introducing them and plugging their book. Katya keeps darting her eyes from her to the camera, not sure where she’s supposed to look. Behind the counter, out of sight, Trixie reaches over and squeezes Katya’s thigh for a moment, and Katya’s eyes go to her face. Trixie briefly glances at her, giving her the tiniest smile, but it’s enough to reassure Katya. She’s not alone, and Trixie knows what she’s doing. They’re going to be fine.

Christina hands the reins over to them, and Trixie starts explaining what they’re doing.

“If you flip through the book, you’ll notice that there’s recipes from all kinds of cuisines. Our goal was always to introduce people to simple but good food they could easily make in their own homes. Food doesn’t have to be experimental or be served on dry ice to have value, all that stuff only alienates homecooks. So this book is the opposite of that. It’s about feeding your family and friends with care, not blinding anyone with outrageous ingredients or expensive equipment.”

“Yes!” Katya jumps in. “That’s why we’ve decided to make a lasagna today. It’s easy to prepare in advance, it’s filling, it’s delicious, and you can adjust it to your personal taste. We’re making the classic meat version today, but the recipe includes a vegetarian alternative as well as one with salmon.” She pushes the sleeves of her sweater up over her elbows. “Now, we’re gonna start with the sauce because that’s the most important part of any lasagna.”

“The secret’s in the sauce,” Trixie throws in.

“Exactly! The secret’s in the sauce,” Katya repeats, “but in this case it’s not your lesbian life-partner’s abusive ex-husband who disappeared under mysterious circumstances, it’s just good spices, fresh herbs, and high quality meat. At least ideally. Is that reference too niche? It’s probably too niche. If you didn’t get that, you should watch Fried Green Tomatoes. It’s a very good movie.”

“We already have everything prepared that goes into the sauce,” Trixie reels the conversation back in, gesturing to the little glass bowls full of ingredients sitting out on the counter, and Katya goes through all of them, naming them and showing them to the camera, as the director instructed her earlier. 

Then Katya gets to actually cook, and as soon as she has a knife in her hand, she calms down. Trixie starts cutting the onion; in the meantime Katya crushes the garlic underneath the blade.

“The recipe calls for two cloves, and we still have other places to be today and people to talk to, but hey, listen, what you do in the privacy of your own home is your business, and we’re not going to judge you if you go for six cloves instead,” Katya addresses the camera, gesturing towards it with the chef knife.

As they get the sauce going, Christina starts asking them about the book.

“At your restaurant you serve mainly Russian dishes, right?”

“Yes, Russian food is how I learned to cook and where I feel the most at home,” Katya says. “But I’ve worked in all kinds of kitchens, and I have so much appreciation for all of them. So we didn’t want to limit ourselves with the book.”

Christina nods. “And how did it work? Writing together, I mean.”

“Originally the plan was for Katya to work out the recipes, and for me to do all the writing. But when I showed her the first drafts, she kept making great suggestions, so we would send the drafts back and forth and work on them at the same time.”

Katya snorts at Trixie’s extremely diplomatic description. “What she means is that I’m very particular about my recipes, and harassed her until she was so annoyed that she told me to do it myself, then.”

“That’s also a way to put it,” Trixie concedes with a small smile. 

What neither of them says is that those arguments happened in the beds in their old apartments, and then in their shared bedroom in the brownstone they bought together. Trixie would roll her eyes and shove her laptop over to Katya’s side of the bed, letting her make the changes she insisted on. Katya would always apologize, either directly after with sex or later with food, sometimes both. In turn, Trixie had kept making suggestions for changes to the recipes themselves, and at no point had Katya been overly protective of them, or felt like as the chef she shouldn’t have her expertise questioned. Of course not, that would be childish. After Katya got over herself, a few of Trixie’s suggestions made it into the book.

The whole writing process had been more stressful and harder than Katya had expected it to be, but she loved getting to work with Trixie. Not so much attending meetings with their publisher, but trading ideas back and forth over the breakfast that Trixie forced her to have, instead of the frappuccino and donut she would have in the morning before she started dating Trixie, if she ate anything at all.

"So whose idea was it to write the book together?" Christina keeps going through the questions they had agreed on.

"Mine," Trixie immediately says. "I'd been approached by our publisher ages ago about a book deal, but I'm not a chef, I can't come up with recipes--"

"You can, but you won't," Katya interrupts, and Trixie rolls her eyes.

"Whatever. I wanted an expert in on it, and Katya is the chef at my favourite restaurant, so I asked her and she said yes."

Katya smiles into the pan as she keeps stirring the sauce. Hearing Trixie call Perestroika her favorite restaurant still makes her chest swell with pride and butterflies flutter in her stomach.

"Well," Trixie carries on, but then immediately hesitates, Katya can hear it in her voice. "It helps that we're married."

Katya drops the wooden spoon and sauce splatters over the stove top. She raises her head, and stares at Trixie in surprise.

"Oh!" Christina blinks a few times. "I had no idea." She looks from Trixie to Katya and back.

Trixie shrugs. "We've kept it under wraps, and it's only been two months."

Katya had not wanted to keep it under wraps, she had wanted to shout it from the rooftops, and refer to Trixie as her wife wherever they went. But Trixie was fiercely private, and for good reason. Any information about her that was public made her more of a target, both to chefs who felt wronged by her and to plain old transphobes and homophobes. Trixie had told Katya that making their relationship, now their marriage, public would make Katya just as much of a target. No matter how many times Katya assured her she was prepared for that and that she was willing to pay that price in order to publicly stand by her, Trixie would smile a little sadly and shake her head. 

" _ I _ know you love me. The world knowing is not more important than protecting you."

So Katya had let it go. She understood Trixie's point, and it wasn't exactly weighing on her, but it still made her a little sad that she didn't get to share her happiness with everyone around her. Only their closest friends and their families knew. It’s not even that they’ve actively hidden it; they go out to dinner together as often as they can manage. That way Trixie gets to have company while she tests restaurants and they still get to have date nights every week. People tend to not pick up on them being dates. It’s not just because they’re both women, they’re also at an age where they’re no longer perceived as romantic or sexual prospects for anyone. 

Katya finds this endlessly amusing. She feels like she’s only just reached the stage of her life where romance truly matters. Admittedly, that has less to do with age and more with Trixie showing up, but Katya has never been this in love before, and she hasn’t had this much sex since her slutty culinary school days, and back then it certainly hadn't been as good. 

She still can’t quite believe she’s actually married, even though she can feel the wedding band resting against her sternum underneath her sweater. It’s hanging from a delicate silver chain around her neck since it bothers her to wear rings in the kitchen. Trixie wears hers where it belongs, and she has started absentmindedly twisting it around her finger when she’s thinking, while she sits in bed on Sunday mornings and writes, or when she’s trying to remember the name of that actress who was in that one movie. Katya doesn’t think Trixie even knows she’s doing it, but Katya notices every time.

The whole thing had been mad. They know that. They hadn’t even been dating a full year, and their friends were already making fun of them for buying a house after only six months together. At no point had they even hypothetically talked about marriage, what they thought of it, and if it was for them. Not even the proposal had been planned in any way.

Katya had been fucking Trixie over the back of the couch, and as she tried to reach around and underneath her to rub Trixie’s clit, searing pain had shot through her lower back, making it impossible to move.

“It’s a little late for teasing,” Trixie had panted and tried to push herself back onto the strap. Katya’s only reply had been a pained little whimper, and immediately Trixie had turned around.

“Honey? Are you okay?”

“Threw my back out,” Katya had pressed out through clenched teeth, trying to stay as still as possible, and Trixie’s mouth had fallen open with both shock and silent laughter.

Together they had managed to lay Katya down on the couch, Trixie carefully opening the buckles and pulling off the harness, before getting Katya an ice pack and some ibuprofen. Then she had laid down next to Katya, having to turn onto her side to fit. Her old couch had been to big for the living room in the brownstone, and they can’t lie comfortably next to each other on the new one. Trixie had been squished next to Katya, with her still naked ass hanging off the side and not covered by the blanket she had pulled over them. She had petted Katya’s hair, making little noises like one would make to soothe a crying baby or scared kitten, and for the rest of the day had made sure Katya drank enough water and had plenty of snacks.

“It’s okay, baby, you don’t have to pamper me,” Katya had muttered when Trixie went to dig through their kitchen cupboards for the wasabi nuts Katya liked so much and that she was pretty sure they were out of.

“Shh, you get to have your princess day today.”

Katya had snorted, and immediately regretted it as the pain in her back flared up again. Princess days were the days when Trixie wanted Katya to call her princess and take care of her. Except that all of her days were princess days, some just more than others. 

“I’m sorry for laughing earlier,” Trixie had said quietly once she had returned unsuccessfully and cuddled back up with Katya. “I swear I wasn’t laughing at you being in pain, just the overall situation.” 

“I know that! I’d have laughed too, if it didn’t hurt so much,” Katya had quickly reassured her.

“I’m gonna look after you, honey,” Trixie had pressed chaste kisses all over Katya’s face, “for as long as you’ll let me.”

“Forever,” Katya had said with a soft smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Trixie had pulled back a little so she could look into Katya’s eyes. “Then marry me.”

The question had knocked all the air out of Katya’s lungs. Trixie was serious, she could read it on her face, and Katya knew that this, that  _ they _ were as real and solid as the bricks in the walls around them. So she had nodded, and Trixie had painfully crashed into her before she’d even said yes. 

They go and get their marriage license three days later, when Katya is back on her feet, and buy their rings directly after. Two weeks later Ginger is in town, and under the pretense of going out for lunch, they drag her, Bob, Violet, and Kim to City Hall. Twenty-five dollars poorer and one hour later they’re married. 

“You two are literally the dumbest people I know,” Bob tells them with an unimpressed face in lieu of congratulations once they’ve been declared married. Both Ginger and Kim are crying, but they still agree with Bob. Violet is surprisingly sweet and soft-spoken for the whole procedure. They take the rest of the day off and have that lunch they promised their friends, ending with drinks at their place, all of them crashing there, even though there isn’t nearly enough space in their guest bedroom and on the couch. 

Trixie and Katya don’t care at all that their friends can hear them fucking in the other room, and afterwards, when they’re holding onto each other as if it’s their last night on earth, neither of them can stop smiling.

“I feel like I thought I would feel at 25 when I was a kid,” Trixie whispers, and Katya knows exactly what she means.

*

“Are you mad?”, Trixie asks with a worried expression once they get home after the interview, and Katya just laughs and pushes her against the wall, kissing her deeply.

“No, of course not.” She kisses her again. “You could have told me before, though, so I wouldn’t have looked like  _ I _ didn’t know we were married.”

“I didn’t plan it, I just…” Trixie grabs Katya’s hand. “I know you never wanted to keep it a secret, and I don’t  _ want _ to either, I just worry about the consequences. But you said you were willing to face whatever being public about us would bring, and I trust you.”

“Good,” Katya says with a smile, and that’s the end of that discussion. 

The video doesn’t come out until two weeks later, but as soon as it drops, both their phones blow up with messages congratulating them while at the same time yelling at them for keeping it a secret. 

Their friends and families don’t let them get away with not doing anything for their wedding, so they finally relent. Katya closes Perestroika for one night to host a dinner party there, both in honor of their book launch and them getting married. Speeches and presents are strictly forbidden, dancing and drinking are very much encouraged. 

“I guess smuggling you into that banquet really paid off,” Sasha tells Trixie with a smile after congratulating them. Katya whips around to her. 

“The banquet? Where we really talked for the first time?”

Trixie shrugs awkwardly and doesn’t meet Katya’s eyes. “I had to somehow complain about you taking the pelmeni off the menu, and, you know, let you know it was me.”

Katya sputters disbelievingly. “And that’s the way you chose to do that?” She foregoes mentioning all the less ridiculous ways Trixie could have gotten in touch with her in order to ask, “Then why did you disappear immediately after?”

“I panicked,” Trixie admits quietly with another shrug, and Katya throws her head back and laughs. She’s still grinning when she pulls Trixie in for a kiss, and the people around them start to cheer.

Katya is glad they’ve decided to do this. Neither of them needed a traditional wedding, as aging dykes with an unconventional start to their relationship it hadn’t really felt like them, but Katya hasn’t gotten to see all of her friends in one room in a long time. Trixie had met Katya's parents before, they’d had them over for brunch after they got settled in the house, and they had been utterly charmed by Trixie and thrilled for Katya. But Trixie’s parents live in Wisconsin. Trixie and Katya haven’t made it out there together yet, and her parents aren’t keen on traveling at their age. They made an exception for Trixie’s not-really-wedding, and Trixie and Katya flew them out first class. It’s obvious that Trixie and her parents aren’t close. Katya knows they’ve gone through some rough patches when Trixie came out and started to transition, but they seem genuinely moved to see their daughter happy and in love.

Katya is pleasantly buzzed and they’re taking a break from dancing when Trixie stands up, carefully clinking her dessert spoon against her champagne glass, and their guests turn around to look at her.

“What are you doing?” Katya mutters, looking up at her, and Trixie smiles.

“I know we said no speeches,” she starts with her voice raised, “and I promise this is not a speech.” She pulls a folded up sheet of paper out of her cleavage and starts unfolding it. “It’s a preview of my next restaurant review. It’s a little different from what I usually write.” She clears her throat and then starts to read.

“ _ I get asked about my favourite restaurant almost every day. My answer has been the same for over ten years: I promise you will fall in love with Perestroika. I have never written about it because I realize that I am biased, since I didn’t just fall in love with Perestroika, but also with Katya Zamolodchikova, chef and owner. This is not a desperate attempt to weasel my way into getting free food, we are literally married. Which, to be fair, means that I do get free food there.” _

Laughter goes around the room, and Katya joins in. She’d had no idea Trixie had been working on this. Usually she knows about Trixie's pieces, even when it’s about a place she didn’t get to join her at. Trixie still tells her about it and lets her read the draft over her shoulder on the couch, or she reads out bits she thinks are funny while Katya is cooking. This, Trixie wrote in secret, and Katya feels like she did in eighth grade, when Denise Richardson slipped her a note during geography class, asking if she wanted to go get ice cream after.

“ _ It was my favourite restaurant long before we knew each other, and that’s why I feel confident recommending it to everyone. The first thing that took me by surprise was that the restaurant itself is cozy, like a large living room. The staff is professional, but nonetheless warm and welcoming.” _

Katya can see Violet looking very pleased with herself. She had always been professional, but they had worked on the warmth together, on Katya’s couch with a glass of wine each, and Katya explaining she has to work on genuinely being happy their guests were there.

“Just keep in mind that they are responsible for whether or not I can afford to employ you.” That had worked at first, and after a while it wasn’t necessary any more. Violet was happy to be there without the incentive.

“ _ It’s a reflection of the food Zamolodchikova and her kitchen staff make, with an amount of authenticity and care that is hard to find anywhere else. It’s Michelin level cooking with no ego, but prepared with a joy for food you can taste in every dish.”  _

In the following description of the food Trixie has eaten Katya recognizes several of the snippets from the shoebox, and she realizes she hasn’t seen that around in a while. She remembers Trixie moving it in along with all the other things in her wardrobe, but a while ago, while putting away laundry, Katya had noticed the box wasn’t sitting in its spot anymore. Trixie must have taken it to the office with her, and actually written it there. Katya knows how much Trixie hates working there. She prefers to be wrapped in a blanket, wine glass in hand, feet up on the coffee table and one of her records playing softly in the background. Apparently she abstained from all that so she could surprise Katya with this. 

“ _ My favorite dish is no longer on the menu, and it never will be again because she’s only allowed to make that for me as long as we both live, but you can find the recipe for the lamb pelmeni in our book, Trixie & Katya’s Guide to Modern Home Cooking, now available on Amazon.”  _ Everybody laughs, and Trixie continues, visibly proud. “ _ But no matter what you order, you will leave Perestroika feeling taken care of, not just fed, and excited to go back. And everyone there will be happy to have you back. Do yourself a favor and plan a dinner there, I can promise you that you won’t regret it. There is no wrong choice on that menu. Please do it, my wife and I have a mortgage to pay,”  _ Trixie finishes in a soft voice, and Katya gets up to kiss her, can’t  _ not _ kiss her right now. It’s gentle and sweet, and once they pull back, Trixie wipes Katya’s cheeks with her thumbs. She hadn’t even noticed she was crying.

“I love you,” she says, just for the two of them, and Trixie looks at her like she’s hearing it for the very first time.

“I love you,” Trixie replies and gives Katya another small kiss.

“I love you,” Katya repeats, and if it wasn’t for the room full of people staring at them, they would simply keep going in that fashion. They have before, the back and forth only ended by Trixie falling asleep.

When Katya’s parents had asked when they had said it the first time, they’d had to come up with a story on the spot, because Katya was not about to tell them that Trixie moaned it while Katya had been railing her. Apparently they can’t have important moments in their relationship if they’re not having sex or at the very least were having sex moments before. Katya feels like it’s fitting for them.

That day, Trixie had been fidgety with want from the second they met at a little hole in the wall pizza place, and even though the pizza was excellent, Trixie had quickly dragged Katya back to her apartment, already making out in the elevator. They had left a trail of discarded clothes from the front door to her bed. Once they were there, Trixie had immediately gone through her bedside drawer, pulling out Katya’s harness, that had taken up permanent residence at Trixie’s place, and a smaller dildo than the one they had been using until then.

Trixie had fumbled around a little, both with the dildo and her words, until Katya caught on, and bluntly asked, “Do you want me to fuck your ass?” and Trixie had looked both relieved and irritated. Katya had pressed her into the pillows, kissing her hungrily.

“You don’t get to be embarrassed about asking me for what you want, you’re only allowed to enjoy it.”

“I just don’t like how it sounds,” Trixie had muttered, quickly forgetting her embarrassment when Katya’s hands were on her body. She had kept urging Katya on, but she had taken her time, making sure Trixie would be in as little discomfort as possible, even when she insisted that it would be fine and that Katya should just get on with it. Finally Katya had laid down, letting Trixie ride her, so she could control depth and speed, and when she was about to come, she had locked eyes with Katya, her hands heavily leaning on her chest.

“I love you,” she had gasped, and Katya had been caught so off guard that she couldn’t do anything but stare at Trixie moving above her.

"Anal, huh? So that's the key to your heart," she had muttered into the warm and soft silence surrounding them after where they laid side by side.

"Shut up!" Trixie had shrieked, and roughly shoved against her shoulder, but she had been laughing. “I take it back.”

Katya had rolled over so she was hovering over Trixie. “Nope, you can’t take it back.”

“I can’t?” She'd raised her eyebrows, Katya recognizing the challenge in her face. Trixie didn’t like being told what she could and couldn’t do.

So Katya had quickly clarified, “You can’t, because I would feel very stupid telling you that I do love you, and that I have no intention of taking it back.”

Immediately Trixie’s face had gotten soft and she’d raised one hand to Katya’s face, cupping her cheek. 

“Then I won’t take it back.”

“Good.” Katya had leaned down and kissed her, and afterwards Trixie had grinned.

“Great. Good talk!” 

Giggling, Katya had collapsed on top of her and Trixie’s arms had come around her, holding her close, and Trixie’s chest had vibrated with her own laughter.

*

As quietly as possible, Katya unlocks the front door of their brownstone. It’s later than she tends to come home from work these days. Bob is on vacation, and as soon as Kameron showed up, Katya had sent her home since she was obviously sick. Even though they all pulled more than their own weight tonight, everything went sluggish and with hiccups in their normally so smooth routine. When it was clean-up time, Katya very much just wanted to lie down, rest her aching back and legs, preferably in her bed next to her wife. 

Katya takes off her shoes and hangs her jacket on the coat rack before sneaking up the stairs. She needn’t have bothered. When she opens the bedroom door, she’s greeted by the sight of Trixie sitting up in bed with her laptop open, glasses on her nose, and she gives Katya a sleepy smile.

“There you are! I thought you were never coming home.” There’s no accusation in her voice, only the familiar contentment of having Katya here.

“Sorry, princess. It was the service from hell,” Katya explains, and Trixie makes a noise of pity. “Why are you still up?” As every night, she leans down and presses her lips to Trixie’s temple. She's in pink silk pajamas, and Katya knows Trixie especially likes putting these on after shaving her legs, the smooth material gliding over her skin. For Katya, the appeal lies more in the shiny fabric straining over Trixie's breasts and her round hips. She knows the buttons open easily enough for her to do it with one hand; she's peeled Trixie out of this shirt often enough. Tonight she only brushes her knuckles along the sleeve before absentmindedly playing with the seam of it between her fingers, just above Trixie's wrist. It's a little short on her.

“You know I can’t sleep until I know you’re home,” Trixie mutters, and Katya hums in acknowledgement. It’s why she tries to get home at a reasonable time every night. When Trixie had told her that the first time, only a few weeks after moving in together, Katya had asked how she slept when either of them was away for work. 

“Badly,” she’d replied matter-of-factly. They don’t spend that many nights apart, but whenever they do, Katya makes sure to call Trixie and say goodnight, usually staying on the line until one of them falls asleep.

“Your hair looks nice,” Katya murmurs close to her face. She knew Trixie was going to get her roots done today, but she’s taken a good bit of length off as well. “It suits you.”

Trixie hums. “Thanks for leaving me dinner.”

“What did you think?” Katya brushes her nose along Trixie’s cheekbone.

“I like how mellow the black garlic is, but next time I would put in more, for a bit of oomph, you know?” Trixie mutters her review of the pasta Katya left for her before she headed to the restaurant at noon.

“Noted.” Katya kisses her again, slowly and with no urgency. 

“You stink, go shower,” Trixie tells her after they’ve pulled apart, and Katya grins. She’s itching with the sweat and grime of a long day in the kitchen, but still, she leans down to kiss the tip of Trixie’s nose. 

“You smell delicious,” she mutters against Trixie’s soft, warm skin that smells like her almond body lotion. Trixie shoves her in the direction of the bathroom, but she’s smiling, and Katya goes, pulling the door closed behind her and peeling out of her chef whites. She sets the shower head to the massage setting and lets the hot water drum on her back for a while. By the time she gets out of shower, she feels like her bones have started dissolving, and she quickly pulls on the cozy flannel pajamas Trixie got her last week. Half asleep, she brushes her teeth and finally takes her hair out of its bun, running her hands over her scalp and pushing her fingertips into the skin where her hair has been pulled tight all day. 

Back in the bedroom, Trixie is fast asleep, but she’s left the light on Katya’s bedside table on. Katya quickly slips underneath the covers and turns off the light, her body exhaling a sigh of relief at finally getting to rest. Katya scoots close enough that she can put her arm around Trixie from behind, and without waking up, Trixie turns and presses her face to Katya’s chest, huffing a little as she does. She settles quickly, her breathing deep and even, and Katya knows she’ll be out in no time, too. 

This is how most of their nights end, at least the ones Katya is working. Even when they’re both stressed from work, even when they’ve had a pointless little fight earlier in the day, they fall asleep like this, and it fills Katya with a floaty sort of happiness that makes her whole body feel light with it. She had expected it to lessen over the months, but it hasn't. It doesn’t. It won't.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear what you think, either here or on tumblr where you can find me at [connyhascontrol](https://connyhascontrol.tumblr.com/).


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